The ice did not break so much as surrender, with a sound like the last chord of a symphony played in
The ice did not break so much as surrender, with a sound like the last chord of a symphony played in a dying key. Captain Edmund Hale stood on the deck of H.M.S. Horizon, his face turned toward the gray-white expanse that stretched beyond the ship's bow, and felt something older than reason settle into his bones. The Arctic had been patient. It had waited three centuries for its ice to thicken,...
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