The Pale Meridian
The iron gates of the Athenaeum of Eternal Ledger opened with a groan that sounded like a sigh escaping from a chest compressed by centuries. Elias Thorne stood on the cobblestones, his hands resting on the cold brass of his cane, feeling the familiar tremor in his fingertips that signaled the onset of the day’s labor. He was the Keeper of the Scales, a title that carried the weight of the...
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