The Golden Oath
The heavy oak door of the subterranean command bunker did not creak, for it was engineered to seal with a hydraulic hiss that sounded suspiciously like a dying breath, and Sergeant Major Elias Thorne stood before it with his back to the corridor, his spine a rigid column of vertebrae that had long since calcified into something harder and less humane than bone, listening to the rhythmic thud of...
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