The Golden Oath
Thorne. The name was spat through the mud, a command from Lieutenant Vane that cut through the roar of the incoming fire. Elias Thorne did not look up. He pressed the butt of his rifle into the soft earth, his boots slipping in the slurry, and fired twice into the grey treeline. The brass compass at his belt swung with the recoil, the metal casing cold against his hip, its needle spinning in a...
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