The Wistful Voyage
The train hissed into the station, a long, metallic groan that seemed to vibrate through the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots, and he stepped off onto the platform with the weary precision of a man who had spent thirty years ensuring that others followed the rules. The air in the city was thick, a palpable weight of coal smoke and damp wool, clinging to his uniform tunic and settling into the...
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