The Wistful Mountain
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world until the forest surrounding the Blackwood Station seemed to bleed into the sky. Captain Elias Thorne stood by the window of the command post, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago, watching the water race down the glass in thin, frantic lines. He was a...
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