The Faded Guest
The fog inside the outpost was not weather, but a thick, gray sludge that clung to the stone walls and seeped into the joints of my bones, a physical weight that pressed against my chest as I pinned my back against the damp masonry, my rifle raised with trembling hands while the figure before me hovered, translucent and jagged, like a tear in the fabric of the room. I am Elias Thorne, a...
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