The Pale Echo
The crystal chandeliers of the outpost mess hall cast a web of fractured light over the polished mahogany, illuminating the silver platters of roasted lamb and the sweating glasses of red wine that lined the long table. Sergeant Elias Thorne sat at the head of the lower tier, his spine rigid against the chair, his eyes fixed on the Colonel who stood at the far end, raising a toast to the...
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