The Golden Scar
The train hissed through the fog, a long, silver serpent sliding into the station that did not appear on any map, carrying Elias Thorne toward the Institute for Anomalous Cognition. He sat in the corner of the carriage, his coat buttoned to the chin, his hands resting on his knees with the precise, still geometry of a man who had learned to suppress the tremors in his own blood. Outside, the...
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