The Distant Blade
Thorne. The name hung in the cold air of the study, a summons from the world outside that I had learned to ignore. I did not look up from the desk where the *Codex Aeterna* lay open, its pages illuminated by the single gas jet whose flame sputtered against the draft. It was November, 1912, and the light from the streetlamps outside was thinning, a pale yellow smear on the frosted glass. My...
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