The Pale Banner
The letter from the county registrar lay open on the splintered table, its edges curling in the dry heat of the stove, the ink faded to a ghostly gray that matched the ash in the hearth. You read the name, Elias Thorne, and the date of disappearance, Clara Thorne, three weeks ago, and you felt the cold of the highlands seep through the soles of your boots, a physical weight that pressed against...
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