Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94XN71QCD528JKTCPJCC7Z

The old manor house loomed silently under a sky choked with bruised, swirling clouds presaging a storm. Detective Harding's polished shoe crunched on the gravel drive, its worn leather reflecting the faint, dying light. A single, uncannily bright light spilled from an upstairs window, a stark beacon in the encroaching darkness. Constable Davies had called him, his voice tight with an urgency that chilled Harding to the very bone. The grand oak door stood ajar, revealing a sliver of the dimly lit, opulent foyer within its frame. An unsettling silence hung heavy in the air, thicker than the dust motes dancing in the lamp’s faint glow. Near the grand staircase, a dark, irregular stain marred the Persian rug, impossibly vibrant against the aged threads. Lord Ashworth lay sprawled awkwardly, his silk dressing gown splayed open, revealing a shocking, final stillness. A peculiar, antique letter opener rested beside his outstretched hand, its ornate handle glinting ominously in the gloom. Harding knelt slowly, his trained eyes scanning every detail, absorbing the scene before a single word was spoken.