The Pale Shadows
The ink on my left forearm had stopped moving three days ago, but the mirror in the hallway still held a shape that was not mine. I am Elias Thorne, formerly of the 42nd Infantry, and I am writing this to the War Office, though I know the letters will not reach the man who made my life a ruin. I want my pension. I want the truth recorded. But the truth is a heavy thing, and the system that...
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