The Golden Ritual
The helicopter was already a memory of noise before the silence arrived, a jagged tear in the grey sky that bled out into a long, heavy quiet. Sergeant Elias Thorne lay in the mud of the valley floor, his chest heaving against the cold earth, the taste of copper and wet soil thick on his tongue. He was alone. Or rather, he was alone in the way that mattered. The rest of the unit, the four men...
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