The Pale Mist
The train did not arrive so much as it emerged from the grey wool of the morning, a long, soot-stained serpent shedding its breath in plumes of white vapor that mingled indistinguishably with the fog clinging to the tracks of Ashworth, a town that seemed to exist less in the physical world than in the collective memory of its weary inhabitants. Professor Elias Thorne stepped onto the platform...
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