The Distant Ghost
The smell of hot brass and old oil hits you before your eyes adjust to the dimness of the Guild Hall, a thick, metallic tang that coats the back of your throat and settles into the pores of your skin. Your hands, trembling with a palsy that has grown stubborn over the last three winters, hover over the central axis of the Great Orrery, the great wooden table beneath them scarred by decades of...
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