The Golden Crossing
The rain against the plexiglass walls of Sector 4 did not fall; it accumulated, a slow, viscous weeping that blurred the horizon between the sterile white corridors and the abyss beyond. Captain Elias Thorne stood before the containment unit, his uniform pressed to a severity that seemed to absorb the ambient light, his hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of rigid, professional...
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