The Distant Whispers
The dream began, as it always did, with the sound of a drill, a high-pitched whine that drilled not into concrete but into the marrow of Major Elias Thorne’s skull, vibrating with a frequency that felt less like noise and more like a physical pressure, a tightening of the chest, a narrowing of the world until it was nothing but the white, blinding center of the eye. He was standing in the...
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