The Wistful Campus
The bread was already stale by the time the alarm bells began to wail, a jagged, metallic shriek that tore through the humid air of the refectory and shattered the silence of the ancient, moss-covered stones. Elias, a man whose face was a map of scars and whose hands still trembled with the phantom weight of a rifle he had not held in twenty years, sat at the long oak table. He was not a...
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