The Distant Nightmare
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, silver mist that clung to the wool of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s coat and settled in the hollows of his cheekbones. He walked the perimeter of the Hollow, a place that existed neither on the maps of the Ministry nor in the ledgers of the old world, a pocket of suspended time where the grass grew in spirals and the sky was a bruised purple,...
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