The Distant Garden
The train hissed to a halt in Ashford, the steam curling around the iron legs of the platform like the ghosts of the men Elias Thorne had failed to save. He stepped down, his boots heavy on the cobblestones, the city’s industrial smog settling into the creases of his uniform and the deep lines of his face. At thirty-four, Elias was a veteran of the Boer War, a man whose body remembered the cold...
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