The Faded Alibi
The brass astrolabe in Elias Thorne’s pocket felt less like an instrument of navigation and more like a leaden anchor, dragging at the fabric of his waistcoat with a weight that defied its physical mass. It was a relic of the Old Meridian, a time when the sky was mapped by men who believed that if they could only measure the angles precisely enough, they could pin the chaos of existence to the...
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