The Pale Path
The train did not stop at the station. It slid past with a groan of metal on iron, leaving a ribbon of steam that hung in the cold air like a ghost refusing to dissipate. Silas stood on the platform, his coat buttoned to the chin, watching the lights recede into the grey. He had been expecting a door to open. He had been expecting a voice to call his name, to tell him he had failed the final...
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