The Faded Sutra
The wagon wheels bit into the mud. Rain fell. Captain Elias Thorne sat upright. His spine was a rod of iron. He did not shiver. Cold was a rumor. Fear was a debt. Behind him, the men packed their gear. They were quiet. Good boys. Scared boys. "Captain." The voice came from the rear. Thomas. His second. Young. Eager. "What is it, Thomas?" "The gate is open." Elias nodded. He looked ahead. The...
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