The Wistful Cipher
The train whistle screamed through the valley of Ashwood, a sound that seemed to tear the fabric of the evening sky, and you stepped off the platform into the chill dampness of the industrial town, your coat collar turned up against the rain that fell in sheets like gray static. You were not meant to be here, not in this soot-stained pocket of the world where the smokestacks of the textile...
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