The Faded Quadrant
The fire had not merely consumed the timber camp of Blackwood Ridge; it had devoured the geometry of Elias Thorne’s life. In the smoking ruins, where the air tasted of charred pine and ash, Elias stood holding a single, scorched instrument. It was his mentor’s brass quadrant, the only artifact to survive the blaze that had taken Arthur Halloway three days prior. Elias was thirty-four, a...
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