The Faded Portrait
The train cut through the fog like a knife through silk. Elias Thorne pressed his face to the cold glass. The landscape outside was a blur of grey and black. He was a detective. Or at least, he had been. Now he was a man running from a shadow. The city of Oakhaven waited ahead. It was a place of iron and steam. The factories belched smoke into the sky. The air tasted of rust. Elias carried a...
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