The Distant Ghost
The wind did not howl across the Ashwardt Plateau so much as it groaned, a low, tectonic rumble that seemed to rise from the very bones of the earth, carrying with it the scent of ozone and dried sage, a perfume that tasted of iron and old memories, settling into the crevices of Captain Elias Thorne’s armor like a second skin that was slowly, inevitably, eroding his humanity. He stood at the...
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