The Golden Myth
The rain in the valley didn’t wash things clean. It just made the mud thicker. Sergeant Elias Thorne sat in the back of the armored transport, his knees up to his chest, the cold seeping through his fatigues. He wasn’t looking out the window. He was looking at his hands. They were steady. That was the problem. They had been steady since the incident in Sector Four, where the thing had come...
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