The Pale Echo
The ledger is already closed. That is the first thing you must accept. Magistrate Holloway has inked the final entry, his quill scratching like a dry twig against parchment, sealing your fate before you have even spoken. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a constable of Oakhaven, and you stand in the center of the village square, the mist clinging to your wool coat like a shroud. The crowd is...
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