From a smuggled broadsheet, nailed to a tavern door in Leith, June 1746: "THE EDINBURGH PHANTOM" They say she walks the Canongate at dusk, black ribbon fluttering like a raven's wing. She leaves no bodies-only saltires carved in stone and freed prisoners weeping her name. The Butcher hunts her. The clans whisper her creed. And the Crown? The Crown is afraid. Anonymous, printed in Glasgow and passed hand to hand.
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