The Distant Clue

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2026-08-23 13:10:45 -

The Distant Clue

The dream was grey. It tasted of ash. Walter Vane woke with the scent of charred wool in his nose. He sat up. The room was cold. The fire had died. Only embers remained, faintly pulsing like slow hearts. He looked at his hands. They were stained black. Not with soot. With ink. Or blood. The distinction was blurred. The light was failing. He did not know how long he had slept. Time had lost its...

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