The Faded Guest
The train from London to York was a beast of steel and steam, breathing out plumes of white vapor that curled into the grey November sky like the ghosts of forgotten promises. Elara Vane sat by the window, her forehead pressed against the cold glass, watching the blurred landscape streak past in a smear of brown and ochre. In her lap, wrapped in a silk handkerchief that had once been her...
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