The Pale Garden
The train shudders into the station, a heavy, iron beast exhaling plumes of white steam that curl and dissolve into the grey, industrial fog of the town. You step down onto the platform, your boots striking the wet cobblestones with a sound that feels too loud in the sudden, ringing silence. You are here to assess, to catalogue, to fix what has been broken in the deep, subterranean veins of the...
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