The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-22 16:15:41 -

The order came down at dawn, stamped with the red wax of the High Command, a command that smelled of damp wool and old iron. I was Elias, thirty-two years old, a border guard stationed on the craggy highlands of the northern ridge, and I wanted nothing more than to keep my post, my silence, and the small, fragile honor I had built over ten years of service. The regime had decided that the...

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