The Pale Bridge
The mud sucks at your boots with a wet, sucking sound, a sound that is less like earth and more like a living throat trying to swallow you whole. You are Elias, thirty-two, a captain in the Imperial Guard, and your sword is stuck in the slurry up to the hilt, the iron cold against your palm. You want to survive this night. You want to walk back into the warm light of the house in the capital...
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