The Wistful Cipher
The rain in the Scottish Highlands did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a persistent, gray mist that coated the skin of Sergeant Elias Thorne with a cold, damp film that he could not shake off. He stood at the edge of the peat bog, his boots sinking slightly into the spongy earth, watching the way the water pooled in the hollows of the landscape, reflecting a sky that seemed to have no...
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