The Pale Verdict
The train slows to a halt, the iron wheels grinding against the tracks with a sound like a bone breaking in the dark, and you step out onto the platform of Blackwood Asylum, your breath pluming in the November air of 1912. You are Inspector Elias Thorne, forty years old, and your knees ache with a dull, persistent throb that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the fact...
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