The Pale Verdict
The dream began, as it always did, with the taste of copper and the smell of wet chalk, a sensory intrusion so violent that Captain Elias Thorne woke gasping, his body rigid in the center of the double bed, the sheets twisted into knots around his ankles like the roots of upturned trees. He lay there for a long time, listening to the rain batter the windows of the sanatorium, a sound that was...
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