The Pale Meridian
The train hissed against the iron track, a long, shuddering exhale that seemed to pull the very air from the station platform before it released it again in a cloud of white steam. Elias stood by the edge of the carriage, his hand gripping the cold brass railing, watching the crowd thin out into the gray morning fog. He was not looking at the people who were leaving; he was looking at the...
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