The Golden Farce
The sky above the valley of Oakhaven did not break; it tore, a violent, jagged rip in the fabric of the afternoon that spat out not rain but a shimmering, iridescent mist that settled upon the earth like a heavy, suffocating shroud, turning the green grass into something akin to wet, breathing silk. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the tree line, his boots sinking into the mud that...
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