Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ3MG9B77BP8F46X1G43E95

A single, guttering candle flickered in the spacious, quiet library, casting dancing shadows upon the ancient, oak table top surface. Lord Ashworth sat slumped in his deep leather reading chair, his expression frozen in utter, pale, stark terror for eternity. A small, silver dagger protruded from his chest, its polished blade stained a dreadful, telltale, deep, crimson, bloody red now. Inspector Hardcastle entered the quiet, dusty, old, musty chamber and surveyed the scene with a very stern, practiced, weary eye. The heavy library door was firmly locked from the inside, yet a faint draft came from the ancient stone fireplace. A faint, single, wet footprint clearly marked the polished, dark, wooden floor, but it curiously led away from the body. The ornate clock on the mantle chimed exactly twelve, and the howling storm sounded like a wounded, dying animal outside.