The Distant Temple
The brass astrolabe sat upon the mahogany desk of Silas Vane, a device of such intricate and seemingly nonsensical complexity that it seemed less a tool of navigation and more a testament to the hubris of the man who had forged it, a tangle of golden rings and engraved constellations that caught the grey afternoon light filtering through the high, arched windows of the Bureau of Celestial...
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