The Distant Journey
The train shuddered into the night, a beast of iron and steam exhaling clouds of black smoke that clung to the carriage like a shroud. Elias Thorne sat in the corner, his spine rigid against the velvet seat, his eyes fixed on the small glass vial in his left hand. The liquid inside was amber, viscous, and terrifyingly still. It was the last of it. The last of his sister, Clara. The air in the...
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