The Faded Paradox
The train from London to the coast was a dying beast, coughing steam into the gray morning air as it rattled over the iron bridges and through the dense, indifferent fog that clung to the valley floor. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the second-class carriage, his shoulders hunched, staring at the window where his own face was reflected, ghostly and pale against the rushing dark. He was not a...
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