The Faded Portrait
The mist did not roll in; it rose from the earth like a breath held too long, swallowing the jagged peaks of the borderlands until the world was nothing but gray silence and the wet, cold weight of Elias Thorne’s own guilt. He was Sergeant Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, and he wanted only to reach the Command Post at the ridge to report the enemy’s retreat, a simple duty that felt, in the...
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