The Distant Journey

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2026-08-19 23:44:20 -

You are standing in the mud. It is thick, black, and sucking at your boots. The rain is not falling; it is hanging in the air, a gray curtain that blurs the world into a smear of iron and rust. You are a sergeant. You know this because your bones ache in a specific way that only men who have carried heavy things for too long know. Your name is Thomas Bradshaw. You do not say it aloud. You do...

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