The Faded Paradox
The banquet hall smelled of roasting lamb and stale beer, a heavy, cloying mixture that clung to the back of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s throat, making it difficult to breathe in the suffocating heat of the summer night. He stood by the window, his uniform buttoned to the collar, the fabric stiff against his skin, feeling the weight of the iron star on his chest like a cold anchor dragging him down...
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