The Wistful Campus
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the grounds of Blackwood Military Academy into a slurry of mud and black pine needles that clung to Elias Thorne’s boots with a persistence that felt personal. At twenty-four, Elias was a junior instructor, a title that bought him a small cot in a barracks wing and a sense of dignity that was rapidly eroding by the coughing fits he could hear...
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