The Faded Photograph
The train moved through the grey morning mist, a slow, mournful pulse against the rhythm of the tracks, carrying Elias Thorne toward the estate of his late uncle, a house that stood like a watchful sentinel at the edge of the crumbling town of Oakhaven. Elias was not a man of flesh in the way others were; he was a spirit of the ink, a creature born from the marginalia of old ledgers and the...
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