The Pale Altar
The Grand Meridian in the Sovereign’s Court has not kept true time since the winter of 1998, and I am the only one in this sprawling, marble-veined palace who knows why, or rather, who knows what is eating the gears from the inside out. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a master clockmaker with twenty years of service under my belt, and I am currently staring at a reflection in the...
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