The Wistful Witness
The train that carried Elias Thorne from the soot-choked industrial heart of the Midlands to the remote, fog-drenched coast of the north was not merely a vehicle for transit but a moving reliquary of suspended time, its iron ribs groaning under the weight of a journey that felt less like movement and more like a slow, inevitable suffocation, as if the very atmosphere outside the warped glass...
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