The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-22 07:47:54 -

The Pale Meridian

The wind through the iron lattice of the Meridian Gate did not howl so much as it whispered, a dry, rasping sound that seemed to scrub against the eardrums like sandpaper against skin. Arthur Vane stood before the heavy, rusted bars of the entrance, his breath pluming in the cold November air of 1904, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of grey light that pierced the gloom of the...

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