The Pale Verdict
The dream began with a fracture. Not a crack in the stone. Not a split in the wood. A break in the bone. Arthur stood in the Hall of Echoes. The air tasted of iron and old dust. He held his left arm. The sleeve was torn. The bone beneath was visible. It was white. It was wrong. He did not scream. He had learned silence. War teaches silence. The body remembers what the mind forgets. He looked at...
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