The Pale Banner
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a scream. It rose from the lower quarter of Oakhaven, a sound so raw and human that it silenced the wind in the elms and stopped the clock in the town square. By the time the first column of black smoke pierced the pale morning sky, the old world of the garrison was already ending. The air tasted of ash and wet stone, a metallic tang that coated the...
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