The Pale Tale
The iron gate of the Blackwood Industrial Zone did not open so much as it surrendered, the massive rusted hinges shrieking in a discordant wail that tore through the thin, pre-dawn air of November 1912. Sergeant Elias Thorne, a man whose spine had been straightened by twenty years of rigid duty and whose hands were mapped with the calluses of the border patrol, stood frozen as the mechanism...
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