The Golden Oath
The train cut through the grey morning with a rhythmic, metallic shudder that traveled up through the soles of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s boots and settled heavy in his knees. He sat in the corner of the carriage, his back rigid against the cold window, his hands resting on the steel case that occupied the space between his knees. It was a small, unassuming thing, matte black and lined with...
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