The Weight of a Hundred Lives

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2026-06-04 00:54:00 -

I The Afghan wind carried the smell of cordite and something older, something like wet stone. Captain Richard Hale fell first, and then the world tilted and Edmund Ashworth was running, not away but toward, toward Hale's body, toward the rock face where Afghan regulars were firing with mechanical precision, the kind of fire that does not hate you, does not fear you, simply calculates the angle...

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