The Wistful Asylum
You are standing in the middle of a field that does not exist on any map of the county, a place where the grass grows in spirals and the air tastes of copper and old rain, and you are wearing the uniform of the Department of Anomalous Containment, a garment that feels less like fabric and more like a second skin made of cold iron, and your name is Sergeant Elias Thorne, though here, in this...
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