The Pale Echo
The first thing you notice is the cold. It is not the crisp, clean cold of a morning in the valley, but a wet, rotting chill that seeps into the marrow of your bones, a physical weight that presses against your chest. You are Elias Thorne, forty years old, and for the last three days, you have not slept. You want the truth. You want to know who killed Silas Vane. The opposing force is not a man...
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