The Pale Door
The brass astrolabe sat on the workbench, a perfect circle of gold and steel that Elias Thorne had spent the last three years restoring for the Duke of Sterling, and as he polished the intricate zodiacal ring with a chamois cloth, the dry rattle in his left lung told him that the consumption had finally taken its seat, a mechanical failure in the engine of his body that would stop him within...
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