The Distant Ghost
The hall smelled of damp wool and old stone, a scent that had permeated the walls of the garrison for decades, long before the windows were bricked up and the air became still and stagnant. Colonel Elias Thorne stood at the head of the long oak table, his uniform immaculate, the brass buttons catching the dim light of the single chandelier that hung suspended above them like a frozen star. He...
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