The Wistful Skyline
The smell of rotting peat and coal dust had long since settled into the pores of Elias Thorne’s skin, a permanent stain that no amount of lye soap could scrub away. He stood at the edge of the platform in Blackbridge, a town that seemed to exist in a perpetual state of twilight, where the smoke from the chimneys of the textile mills hung low and heavy, blurring the line between the earth and...
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