The Pale Verdict
The dream was a tide of grey silt that rose up from the bottom of the trench, thick and cold, pressing against the ribs until the air in the lungs turned to stone, and Sergeant Major Elias Thorne woke with a gasp that sounded like a ragged tear in wet canvas, the smell of the damp wool blanket and the stale sweat of the barracks still clinging to his skin as he lay there in the dark, staring at...
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