The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-18 00:25:22 -

"You're late, Miller." The voice cut through the rain like a wire. It was Captain Halloway. He stood at the edge of the clearing, his posture rigid, his face a mask of bureaucratic disapproval. Behind him, the trees of the Appalachian foothills loomed, dark and wet. Miller adjusted the pack on his shoulder. The strap dug into his collarbone. A sharp, bright pain. He welcomed it. It kept him...

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