The Golden Harbor
The train slowed, a groaning of metal on rusted tracks, before it shuddered to a halt in the grey mist of Harrowgate. Elias Thorne stepped onto the platform, his leather case heavy against his hip. It contained three years of spectral analysis, two hundred hours of recording, and the quiet, brittle hope that he could finally explain the sound. He was not alone. A figure stood by the departure...
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