The Pale Shadows
The iron door shuddered under the weight of Thomas’s shoulder, a sound like a bone cracking in a wet field. He was not a man of many words, but in the suffocating dark of the sub-basement, his breathing was loud enough to drown out the distant thud of artillery on the surface. The air tasted of rust and old blood, thick as syrup. He held the lever tight in his right hand, the cold metal biting...
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