The Distant Clue
The mud on Sergeant Elias Thorne’s uniform was not merely wet earth; it was a viscous, grey paste that clung to the wool with a tenacious, almost biological grip, sucking at his boots as he struggled through the flooded trench outside the perimeter of the Ironworks District, the air thick with the sulfurous stench of chemical runoff and the distant, rhythmic thrum of the city’s industrial...
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