The Distant Threshold
The train did not stop at the station, but it shuddered, a great iron beast exhaling a cloud of black steam that tasted of sulfur and old coal, and Elias Thorne stepped down onto the gravel with the heavy, deliberate grace of a man who had long since stopped running, carrying in his left hand the small, leather-bound ledger that had been entrusted to him by a dead clerk and in his right hand...
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