The Distant Blade
The map was wrong. It had always been wrong, but I did not know the extent of the error until I stood at the edge of the whiteout. I am a man of measurements. I deal in inches of grain, ounces of alloy, and the precise tension of a spring. My trade is the restoration of antique timepieces. I understand the mechanics of repetition. I understand the wear. But the path ahead offered no mechanism....
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