Edric grips the brass railing of the broken observatory, watching as stars swirl into new shapes. It shouldn’t move like that, he mutters, flipping a page in his stitched-together map. He scribbles furiously. That’s not right. That wasn’t there yesterday. The sky lets out a long, low hum. Edric closes his eyes, whispering, Are you listening, Father? Because I’m running out of paper.
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