The cursor blinked, a relentless, mocking pulse on the stark white screen. Elias Thorne stared at it, his fingers hovering over the keyboard like hesitant birds. For six months, this blank page has been his nemesis. Once, words had flowed from him like a river. His crime novels, intricate and atmospheric, had garnered critical acclaim and a loyal readership. He was Elias Thorne, the master of suspense,