The Wistful Skyline
The mortar cracked with a sound like a bone snapping in the deep silence of the vault, and the dust that rose was not merely particulate matter but a suspended galaxy of ancient, calcified memory, swirling in the shafts of light that pierced the heavy iron grate above, where Aldous Vane stood with his hands stained black up to the elbows, the rhythmic thud of the pestle against the bowl a...
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