The Distant Cartograph
The wall did not end. That was the first lie I told myself. I stood before it, a barrier of grey stone that stretched from the cobblestones of the city square up into the smog-choked sky, and I tried to find the seam. I tried to find the place where the stone met the air, where the solid world yielded to the void. There was no seam. There was only the wall. It was ancient, older than the city,...
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