The Pale Bridge
The tweezers held the escapement wheel with a precision that cost Elias Vane three years of his life. He counted the seconds in his head, a rhythmic chant that matched the ticking of the Grand Meridian, the great clock that hung in the center of the Hall of Whispers. One, two, three. The mechanism shuddered, a violent convulsion that sent a shiver of cold air through the damp stone floor. Elias...
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