The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-24 10:16:08 -

The Pale Meridian

I woke with the taste of iron and old dust in my mouth, the taste of a place I had sworn to leave behind. The dream was not a dream, but a memory that refused to rot, pressing against the back of my eyes like a bruise. I was standing in the center of the Whitehall Yard, the flagstones slick with rain, and the air smelled of wet wool and gunpowder. My brother, Thomas, was there. He was young,...

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