The Wistful Show
The summons arrived with the dawn fog, slipped under the door of my quarters in the Watchtower. I read it once, then a second time, the ink bleeding slightly in the damp air. The Tribunal sat at first light. My name, Silas Vane, was accused of the murder of my brother, Elias, three years prior. The charge was simple, brutal, and public. But the real weight of the accusation lay not in the...
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