The Pale Circus
The rain hit the mud. It was a heavy rain. It stung the skin. It smelled of iron. Captain Elias Thorne stood by the gate. He held the lantern. The glass was cracked. A thin line ran through the pane. He did not fix it. He never fixed things. He was a soldier. He wore the gray uniform. The wool was damp. It clung to his ribs. He could feel his own pulse in the cloth. It was a steady beat. It was...
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