The Faded Road
The rain fell in sheets of gray wool, heavy and wet, soaking through the thin fabric of Elias Thorne’s coat. He stood at the edge of the platform, watching the steam rise from the tracks, curling into the damp air like the ghosts of the trains that had never come. He held the garment in his hands. It was a long, dark thing, a cloak of midnight blue wool, heavy with the weight of centuries. It...
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