The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-22 10:52:31 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a gray, suffocating mist that seeped through the cracks in the limestone walls of the barracks, settling into the bones of every man who slept there, and Elias Thorne sat on the edge of his narrow cot, the leather-bound journal open on his knee, the quill trembling in his hand not from cold but from a rage so hot it felt like a physical wound...

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