The Distant Cartograph
The winter of 1893 settled over the Blackwood Ridge like a shroud, heavy and silent, pressing the breath out of the air and the color from the world. Elias Thorne stood in the center of Lord Vane’s office, his coat damp with the sleet that had lashed the valley for three days, while the industrialist sat behind a desk of dark mahogany, reviewing a ledger with the detached precision of a man...
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