The Bastion at the End of Night
The Bastion at the End of Night The storm had been coming for three days. Lord Alistair Blackwood felt it before he saw it — a pressure in the air, a silence between the waves that was not silence at all but something vast and patient holding its breath. He stood at the observatory's brass telescope, his breath fogging the glass, watching the Irish coast dissolve into the black Atlantic. The...
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