The Pale Meridian
The frost had settled thick and white upon the panes of the observatory, blurring the stars into soft, weeping halos of light, and Elias Vane stood before the great brass telescope, his breath misting the cold glass as he adjusted the lens with a delicacy that bordered on reverence. He was a man of precise habits and rigid geometries, a scholar of celestial mechanics who believed that the...
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