The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-20 18:56:48 -

The train left at dawn. It was a rattling thing, black with soot and history, smelling of wet wool and coal dust. Silas watched the platform recede. He did not look back. He was seven years old and his hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his coat. The coat was too big. It had belonged to his father. The father was gone. The coat remained. It was a heavy, dark blue wool, thick as a winter...

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