The Pale Meridian
The train arrived in the grey, mist-locked town of Oakhaven not with a whistle that pierced the air but with a low, groaning exhalation that seemed to shake the very marrow of the sleepers, carrying with it the scent of coal dust, wet wool, and the distinct, metallic tang of a promise long broken, as Eleanor Vance stepped onto the platform with a suitcase that looked too heavy for her fragile...
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