The Wistful Campus
The train cut through the grey, rain-slicked moors like a silver needle through heavy cloth, carrying Professor Arthur Penhaligon toward the isolated gates of St. Aldric’s College. It was a journey of three hours, a duration that felt both insufficiently short and unbearably long, a temporal purgatory where the landscape outside the window bled into a monochrome wash of slate and wet heather....
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