The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 07:47:37 -

The Pale Meridian

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that settled into the cobblestones of the old quarter like a shroud. Silas Vane stood beneath the eaves of the watchtower, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, which was not a weapon of war but of law, a silver-hilted blade that had seen better days. The leather of the grip was worn smooth, darkened by the oils of...

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