The Faded Alibi
The plague did not arrive in the village of Oakhaven with the hiss of a serpent, but with the quiet, persistent rattle of a cough that would not leave the lungs of the miller’s son, and by the time the first white sheet was draped over a door, Elias Thorne knew the air itself had turned against them. He was fifty years old, a man whose hands had once shaped the oak beams of the parish church,...
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