The Golden Scar
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a cold and relentless curtain that blurred the distinction between the grey sky and the wet pavement of the checkpoint. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the front of the line, his uniform heavy with moisture, his hands resting on the hilt of a sidearm that felt less like a weapon and more like a dead weight against his hip. He watched the citizens of...
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