The Pale Meridian
The banquet hall of the University of St. Jude’s was a cavern of stone and shadow, lit by a thousand tallow candles that burned with a low, amber hum. It was the eve of the Feast of the Pale Moon, a night when the city of Aethelgard held its breath, waiting for the sky to shift. In the center of the great oak table sat Elias Thorne, the Chair of Celestial Mechanics, a man whose face was carved...
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