The Faded Alibi
The river ran black with oil and memory, its surface a mirror that refused to reflect the sky above. Captain Elias Thorne walked the bank with the steady, grinding rhythm of a man whose joints had been forged in iron and cooled in the cold water of a hundred frozen winters. He was not a soldier in the traditional sense; he was a warden of the border, a keeper of the line where the old world...
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