The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-24 05:19:58 -

The Pale Meridian

Elias Thorne’s fingers, stained with the faint yellow residue of the regimental ink, closed around the brass meridian seal, feeling the metal bite into his palm with a chill that had nothing to do with the heat of the gas lamps flickering above the banquet hall. It was the annual gala of the 14th Infantry, a night of stiff collars and polished boots where the air smelled of roasted lamb and...

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