The Pale Banner
The iron fog did not roll in from the harbor as it should have, but seeped up through the floorboards of the barracks, a cold, wet breath that smelled of rust and burnt sugar, until the world outside the windows became a grey smear indistinguishable from the inside, where we stood in the long, low corridor holding our rifles like talismans against a plague that had no name. We were the Ninth...
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