The Wistful Crossroads
The train moved with the slow, grinding inevitability of a glacier calving into a black ocean, carrying Elias Thorne and the heavy, iron-bound chest that had been strapped to the floor of the compartment for three days without a single shiver or shift in its weight. The landscape outside the rain-streaked windows was a blur of gray heather and dark pines, a world that seemed to exist in a state...
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