The Wistful Petal
The rain lashed against the reinforced glass of the Observation Deck, a rhythmic, percussive assault that seemed to vibrate through the very marrow of Sergeant Major Elias Thorne’s bones, a sensation that was less auditory than tectonic, as if the building itself was a living organism currently undergoing the slow, agonizing process of calcification into something rigid and unyielding, and...
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