The Pale Path
The mortar impact did not shatter the world; it merely rearranged the dust into new, temporary constellations. Elias Thorne did not flinch. He had long since ceased to distinguish between the violent percussion of the artillery and the steady, rhythmic thumping of his own heart, a double beat that had become the metronome of his existence in the high, cold corridors of the Citadel. The Citadel...
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