The Pale Mist
The train slowed as it entered the valley of Oakhaven, a town that seemed to exist in a perpetual state of suspended breath, caught between the rustle of autumn leaves and the settling dust of old secrets. Elias Thorne leaned against the cold window, watching the landscape blur into streaks of ochre and grey. He was not a man who traveled lightly; he carried the weight of his profession in the...
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