The Distant Crown
The train hissed to a stop in the grey, rain-slicked station of Ashford, a sound like a long, weary exhalation from the lungs of the earth. Thomas, a boy of fourteen with eyes that held a premature, heavy wisdom, stepped onto the platform with his father, a man whose hands trembled not from the cold but from a profound, structural fatigue. They were traveling to the Institute of Temporal...
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