The Golden Maze
The letter lay on the scarred wooden table, its ink still dark against the cheap paper, the seal of the War Department broken and discarded in the corner like a dead insect. Elias Thorne read it twice, the words blurring slightly as the heat from the stove pressed against his back, a steady, rhythmic drumming that matched the throb in his temples. It was a formal reprimand, a prelude to a...
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