The Faded Alibi
The ink in my notebook has begun to bleed, not from water, but from the dampness that settles into the very fibers of the paper, a pervasive chill that mirrors the Grey Fog creeping through the highland passes of 1893. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years of age and a border warden of the Crown’s military, and my life has narrowed to a single, desperate calculation: I must secure my pension to...
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