The Distant Promise
The air in the bunker tasted of stale tobacco and wet wool, a thick, cloying miasma that clung to the back of Elias’s throat. He sat on the edge of a metal cot, his knees drawn up to his chest, the cold steel seeping through the fabric of his trousers. Across the narrow room, barely ten feet away, sat Silas. Silas was not looking at him. Silas was looking at the wall, where a single, flickering...
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