The Weeping Horizon

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2026-06-02 15:46:50 -

I stood on the floor of my ancestral home and watched the dust motes drift in a shaft of grey London light. Five minutes had passed. Or perhaps five centuries. I could no longer tell the difference. Three days ago I had touched the crystal and vanished from Blackwood Manor, appearing on a platform of brass and steam in a London that had never existed. The sky there was the color of oxidized...

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