The Distant Temple
The boiler failed. It did not explode. It simply stopped. A silence so thick it felt like lead. Marcus Vane sat in the control room. His hands were still on the throttle. The steam gauge spun. Then it froze. The needle pointed to zero. He waited. Nothing came. The train was dead. It sat in the middle of the valley. The fog rolled in. It swallowed the tracks. It swallowed the sky. Marcus looked...
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