The Pale Meridian
The cartographer, Elara Vance, did not look at the horizon when she entered the valley of the Ashen River. She looked at the vial in her left hand, the glass thick and clouded with a residue that smelled of burnt copper and old rain. It was a standard extraction, or so the Guild had claimed, a necessary byproduct of the surveying instruments they had dragged across the precipice for three days....
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