The Golden Cellar
The frost had bitten into the earth for three days now. It was a white silence, absolute and heavy, pressing against the skin of the world. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the frozen moor. He was a man carved from the same iron as his uniform, his breath a thin plume of white against the gray sky. In his hands, he held a rifle that had served him for twenty years. It was a heavy...
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