The Wistful Campus
The train hissed to a halt in the mist, a long, shuddering exhalation that seemed to shake the very rails. Elias Thorne stepped off onto the platform, his boots crunching against the wet gravel. He carried a single leather satchel, worn smooth by years of service, and he wore his uniform with the rigid precision of a man who had long since confused duty with identity. The town of Oakhaven was...
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