The Golden Myth
The train rattled into Oakhaven with a shudder that vibrated through the soles of Elias Thorne’s shoes, a sensation that seemed to resonate with the dull, persistent ache behind his eyes that had not left him since the funeral three years ago. He stepped onto the platform, the air tasting of wet iron and decaying leaves, and adjusted the leather briefcase in his hand, which contained the final...
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