The Distant Journey
The rain had turned the cobblestones of the Plaza into a mirror of black glass, reflecting the jagged, gaslit spires of the Ministry of Public Order, and it was there, in the wet and shimmering dark, that Elias Thorne watched the carriage pull away, the mud splattering against the lower panels of his own coat as it receded into the distance, carrying with it the only thing he had left that felt...
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