Run: 2026-03-09-01KK9PTCX0HQHKWQ97RB79M5BZ

Rain needled the manor windows as midnight swallowed Blackthorn Hall. Inside, candles trembled beside portraits whose eyes accused every guest. Evelyn Marsh heard a scream, then silence, sharp and unnatural. She followed the echo downstairs, clutching her father's silver lighter. The library door stood open, breathing smoke and ruined secrets. On the Persian rug lay Augustus Vale, bloodied, sightless, motionless. Pinned beneath his hand, a chess king glimmered like evidence. Somewhere above, a clock struck one, and someone quietly laughed.