The Pale Meridian
The banquet hall smelled of roasted lamb and stale beer, the air thick with the damp chill that seeps into the bones of the northern outpost. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a border patrol sergeant who has spent the last six years staring at the tree line, waiting for something that never comes. Your sister Mara died three winters ago, and with her went the last warmth you had...
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