The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-18 22:54:33 -

The Pale Meridian

The blood was warm. It smelled of copper and old pennies. Sergeant Elias Thorne wiped his hands on his trousers. The fabric was dark. It was already stained. He looked at the boy. The boy was still. He held a gun. The gun was not a gun. It was a shape. It was a void. It was a hole in the air. Elias had shot the void. Or the void had shot him. He did not know. He did not care. He was a soldier....

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