The Wistful Skyline
The train cut through the fog like a blade through grey wool, slicing the world into fragments of steel and shadow, and Elias Thorne stood in the corridor, his back pressed against the cold metal of the car, watching the landscape dissolve into a blur of indistinct shapes and muted colors that refused to cohere into meaning. He was a man who had spent thirty years in the service of order, a...
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