The Wistful Atlas
The feast in the high court of the Iron Spire was a cacophony of silver and silence. Magistrate Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the dais, his uniform crisp, his eyes fixed on the Wistful Atlas. It was a living map, a parchment skin stretched over a frame of black iron, suspended in the center of the hall. As Lord Vane spoke of the heretic Kael, the map pulsed. A single drop of black ink...
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