The Distant Legend
The train did not stop at the station, but it slowed, a great iron beast exhaling steam that smelled of coal and wet wool, and that was enough for Elias Thorne to know he had arrived in the place where his name was a crime. The air in Harrow Creek was different here, thicker, carrying the weight of pine needles and the damp chill of the river that cut through the valley like a grey scar. Elias...
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