The Pale Verdict
The winter of 1912 settled upon the town of Oakhaven not with a whisper, but with a crushing, industrial weight that seemed to press the very life out of the cobblestones. I was the town’s archivist, a role that had become less a profession and more a penance, a quiet exile where I cataloged the past to avoid confronting the present. My office sat in the basement of the old municipal hall, a...
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