The Golden Myth
The iron lattice of the train window vibrated against the rhythm of the wheels, a dull, metallic thrum that seemed to sink into the marrow of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s bones. He sat alone in the corner of the second-class carriage, his uniform pressed and immaculate, the brass buttons catching the grey, industrial light that filtered through the smoke-stained glass. Outside, the landscape of the...
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