The Distant Cartograph
The mud of the Blackwood Frontier did not merely cling to Sergeant Elias Thorne’s boots; it seemed to possess a viscous, predatory intent, sucking at his limbs with a suction that felt less like friction and more like the slow, deliberate closure of a throat. He stood in the center of a clearing that had not existed an hour prior, the compass in his left hand spinning with a frantic, hypnotic...
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