The Distant Legend
The rain in the valley of Osh did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended mist that smelled of wet chalk and old iron, clinging to the collar of my tweed jacket like a living thing. I had come to the Institute of Subtle Mechanics with the arrogance of a man who believes his mind is a fortress, impervious to the soft, corrosive doubts of the world. I was Dr. Julian Vane, a historian of the...
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