The Pale Protocol
The train hissed into the station at dusk, a long exhalation of steam that curled into the cold, gray air like a ghost releasing its hold on the living. Elias Thorne stepped onto the platform, his suitcase heavy in his hand, not with weight of objects but with the gravity of years unspoken. He was a man who had carried a secret so long it had calcified into his bones, a structure he had built...
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