The Pale Door
The train hissed into the grey throat of the northern industrial district, a long, metallic exhalation that seemed to shake the very bones of the station platform, and Elias Thorne stepped down onto the gravel with the weary precision of a man who had walked too far for too long, his coat heavy with the damp chill of a late autumn that refused to break. He was not a man who sought the light,...
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