The Wistful Mirror
The mud on the left boot of Captain Elias Thorne was not merely dirt, it was a thick, cloying paste of earth and decay that had seeped into the stitching of his leather until the material itself seemed to groan under the weight of the journey, a weight that matched the crushing, silent pressure of the iron medal he had kept hidden inside his breast pocket for the last three weeks, a cold, heavy...
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