The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-17 19:36:39 -

The Pale Meridian

The dream always began with the sound of snapping threads, a high, thin shriek that cut through the heavy, soot-stained sleep of Elias Vane. In the dream, he was standing in the vast, dimly lit workshop of his youth, the air thick with the scent of raw wool and tallow, and before him hung a single, immaculate garment, a coat of such pale, ghostly white that it seemed to emit its own cold light....

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