The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-22 13:54:02 -

The rain was coming down in sheets, cold enough to bite through my coat, and I could feel the brass quadrant in my pocket growing hot, a feverish weight against my hip that made my hand ache. I was standing in the mud of the Blackwood estate courtyard, the iron gates behind me gone, swallowed by the fog that had rolled in from the moor with a speed that defied the weather report. My name is...

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