The Pale Banner
The fog rolled in thick as wool, erasing the iron railings of the prison yard and the grey sky above. Thomas stood at the gate, his hands raw and bleeding from the cold. He looked at the heavy iron bar that separated him from the world. It was a simple thing, a vertical line of rusted metal. It had been there for three years. It was the only thing he knew by heart. "Move it, Thomas," the guard...
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