The Pale Meridian
The iron gate of the Blackwood Estate did not break; it dissolved. One moment, the wrought-iron barrier stood rigid against the November fog, a symbol of order and exclusion; the next, the earth beneath it had simply ceased to exist. Major Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and rigid with the indignity of the unexplained, stood at the edge of the chasm where the gate had been, watching the mud...
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