The Wistful Skyline
The train groaned against the iron rails, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elias Thorne’s bones, a low, mournful moan that matched the hollow ache behind his ribs as he watched the gray, industrial sprawl of the valley slide past the dirty glass of the carriage window. He was not merely traveling; he was being exiled by his own guilt, a prisoner of a past that had not yet...
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