The Pale Meridian
The stone walls of the infirmary at Blackwood Keep wept with condensation, a cold, persistent dampness that seeped into the marrow of anyone who slept within its confines. Sergeant Elias Thorne lay on the narrow cot, staring at the peeling plaster above his head, his left hand resting heavily on his chest where it began to tremor, a faint, rhythmic shiver that defied the stillness of his body....
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