The Distant Cartograph
The rain fell in thin, silver needles, stitching the gray sky to the wet cobblestones of the old district. It was a cold that seeped into the bone, a familiar, biting sensation that Julian Vane welcomed with a grim sort of satisfaction. He stood at the edge of the terrace, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his heavy wool coat. The fabric was thick, dark, and worn, the threads fraying at...
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