The Golden Oath
You wake in the mud. The rain has not stopped. It never stops here. It soaks into the bone, into the marrow, a cold that does not care for your rank or your name. You are Sergeant Elias Thorne. You are a soldier. You are broken. The dream was sharp. In it, you held a golden oath in your hand. It was not a piece of metal. It was a word, written in light, burned into the air. *Loyalty.* You tried...
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