The Golden Song
The rain against the window of the command center did not fall so much as it hammered, a relentless, metallic percussion that seemed to sync with the erratic thumping of my own heart, a rhythm that had long since abandoned the steady beat of a resting man and adopted the frantic, arrhythmic pulse of a predator on the edge of collapse. I sat in the high-backed leather chair, the one that had...
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