The Pale Verdict
The fog in the city did not lift so much as it thickened, settling into the cobblestones and the damp wool of coats until the world felt less like a place and more like a suspended breath. Thomas Vane, twelve years old and already possessed of a stillness that unsettled the shop clerks, walked with a bundle wrapped in brown cloth under his arm. Inside that bundle lay the severed left hand of...
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