The Faded Shield
The rain had been falling for three days, a cold, indifferent sheet that turned the muddy tracks of the railway spur into rivers of brown sludge, and Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the platform, his boots sinking into the mire with a sound that felt like a bone breaking. He did not look up at the sky, nor did he look down at the puddles reflecting the grey iron of the signal mast; his gaze...
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