The Pale Meridian
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a heavy, suspended mist that smelled of wet iron and old bone, settling into the pores of Elias Thorne’s skin until he could not tell where his body ended and the damp world began. He stood at the edge of the quarry, a vast, circular depression in the earth that looked less like a hole in the ground and more like an open eye staring up at the...
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