The Golden Myth
The train rattled across the iron grid of the valley, a skeletal beast shaking off the frost of the early morning. Elias Thorne stood by the window, his forehead resting against the cold glass, watching the industrial sprawl of Harrowgate unfold in the gray mist. He was a man of precise angles and quiet habits, a junior clerk in the Ministry of Labor’s new Reclamation Division. In his coat...
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