The Wistful Mirror
The mortar shell did not explode; it simply ceased to exist, a void of gray dust and silence that swallowed the front line of the study. Dr. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the ruined room, his spectacles cracked down the left lens, his tie hanging loose and stained with the red earth of a world that had ended outside his window. He was not a soldier. He was a historian of the early...
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