The Faded Apartment
The train shuddered into the valley, a groaning beast of iron and steam, and Elias Vane stepped onto the platform of Harrow’s End with the weight of two continents in his bones. It was a place that smelled of wet slate and stale tobacco, a community frozen in a perpetual, damp twilight where the fog clung to the cobblestones like a shroud that refused to be peeled away. Elias was an exile, not...
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