The Distant Crown

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2026-08-20 04:01:06 -

The Distant Crown

The mud was thick as porridge and cold as a grave, sucking at my boots with a wet, deliberate pull that made every step a labor of faith. I was bleeding from the side of my head, the blood warm and slick, mixing with the sleet until I could not tell where my skin ended and the winter began. Around me, the men of the garrison were dying in the snow, their faces slack and white, their eyes...

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