The Distant Ghost
The dawn light, pale and indifferent, cut through the high, narrow windows of the detention center, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the stagnant air like suspended ash. Elias Thorne stood at the heavy steel gate, his hands gripping the cold metal bars until his knuckles turned white, watching as the transport van idled in the yard below, its engine a low, rhythmic growl that seemed...
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