The Pale Meridian
The wheel of the cart groaned against the gravel, a sound that seemed to vibrate directly into the bones of Silas Vane, a resonance that spoke less of friction and more of the accumulated weight of a lifetime spent in the company of the dead. He was a purveyor of medicinal tinctures and rare botanicals, a man whose reputation in the valley towns of the Scottish Highlands had been built upon a...
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