The Pale Verdict
"Put the blotter down, Tigran. You are holding the page like it is a live rat." Master Aram’s voice was dry, stripped of all warmth by the cold that seeped through the walls of the archive. Tigran Popescu, twelve years old and already too large for his coat, did not put the blotter down. He stared at the parchment. A dark stain, the color of old blood or wet slate, was spreading from the corner...
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