Run: 2026-05-19-01KS0TXRSEGJYWSKPG08374PNZ

The scent of warm cardamom and toasted pecans always filled the pastry shop by six in the morning, but today, a distinct chill lingered near the glass display case. "You’re burning the midnight oil, and I don't mean the ovens." A damp rag wiped down the marble counter, leaving a streak of clean stone amidst the dusting of flour. "The flour delivery was three hours late. And it wasn’t the usual driver." "Oh? Arthur’s usually as reliable as the town clock." "Precisely. This one wore a heavy coat, far too warm for May, and kept his cap pulled low." A ceramic mug scraped against the wooden table as it was lifted. "Did he say anything?" "Not a word. Just dropped the sacks and hurried out. But he left this near the sourdough starters." A small brass key clinked onto the counter. It was tarnished, with a notched head shaped like a crescent moon. "That’s the key to the old library archives. The ones locked up since the flood of '98." "I know. And look at the flour sack he left." A finger pointed to the corner of the pantry. The bottom bag was stenciled not with the local mill's logo, but with a single, crimson star.