The Distant Metropolis
The road out of the valley was not a road at all, but a scar of packed mud and gravel that wound through the birch trees like a vein of grey stone. Elias Vane walked it with a heavy coat draped over his shoulders, the wool thick and damp with the morning mist. It was a coat that had belonged to his brother, Julian, before Julian had gone to the city and before the sickness had taken him. The...
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