The Pale Meridian
The air in the town of Oakhaven hung heavy with the scent of coal dust and wet wool, a suffocating embrace that seemed to settle into the pores of everyone who walked its cobbled streets, binding them to the rhythm of the mill and the weight of the sky. Elias Thorne moved through this grey landscape with the quiet, persistent grace of a man who had forgotten how to be loud, his steps muffled by...
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