The Pale Verdict
The banquet hall, a cavernous expanse of polished oak and heavy tapestries that had absorbed the damp chill of the northern moors for centuries, hummed with a low, resonant drone that seemed to emanate not from the voices of the assembled officers, but from the very stone beneath the floorboards, a vibration that settled in the marrow of Major Elias Thorne’s bones, a deep, tectonic shudder that...
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