The Pale Meridian
The rain fell on the roof of the Blackwood Manor like a warning that had been ignored for too long. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the great hall, his back straight, his hands clasped behind his back. He was a tall man, lean as a reed, with the kind of stillness that usually preceded a storm. He had come from the north, traveling through the mist that clung to the lowlands like a shroud....
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