The Golden Visit
The train cut through the fog like a blade through silk, its headlight a singular, piercing eye in the grey void. Elias Thorne sat in the rear car, his knees pressed against the window, watching the countryside dissolve into a blur of muted greens and browns. He was a man who had left behind everything he owned, not in a dramatic act of rebellion, but in a slow, eroding surrender to the idea...
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