The Last Vigil at Blackwood Observatory
The fog rolled in from the Thames like a living thing, thick and yellow as old wool, swallowing the gas lamps one by one until the street outside Blackwood Observatory was nothing but a memory of light. Inside the great dome, Professor Arthur Blackwood stood before the brass telescope, his reflection ghostly in the cold glass. He was a small man, unremarkable in every way save for his eyes—eyes...
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