The Distant Cartograph
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a smudge of wet slate and neon, and it was in this suffocating dampness that Elias Thorne stood on the threshold of his office, watching the leaves of the ancient oak outside the window turn and curl in the wind, their veins dark and heavy with moisture. He was a man of middle years, his...
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