The Pale Circus
You hold the writ in your left hand, the paper brittle and stained with the grease of the chandler’s tallow. The ink is dry, black, and absolute. It names you, Silas Vane, Court Investigator, and it names her, Elara, your wife, as a suspect in the matter of the Pale Mark. You have three days. The clock on the wall ticks with the heavy, wet rhythm of a heartbeat under a ribcage. You sign the...
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