The Pale Verdict
The snow fell in thick, silent sheets, burying the world in a white that looked less like nature and more like erasure. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the frozen lake, his breath pluming in the bitter air. He wore his uniform, the wool heavy and damp, the brass buttons tarnished by years of salt wind and neglect. In his hand, he held a rifle. Not for hunting. For holding. He was...
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