The Distant Cartograph
The smell of cordite and wet wool hung heavy in the air of the sub-basement. Elias Thorne pressed his back against the cold concrete wall, his breathing shallow and controlled. The fluorescent lights above flickered with a sickly hum, casting long, jittery shadows that seemed to dance across the floor in time with the distant, muffled thuds of artillery fire overhead. He was not a man built for...
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