The Distant Garden
The train to the industrial sector of the valley moved with a sluggish, mechanical inevitability, the wheels grinding against the rails in a rhythm that matched the dull, throbbing ache in Elias Thorne’s temple, a pain that felt less like an illness and more like the slow erosion of a stone by water, wearing away the sharp edges of his former certainty until he was nothing but a smooth, passive...
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