The Faded Quadrant
The water was thick, not with silt, but with a cold, viscous silence that pressed against Elias Thorne’s eardrums, a pressure he felt in the deep architecture of his knees even as he lay awake in the narrow cot of the northern outpost. He sat up, the movement a jagged tear of pain that radiated from his hips to his shoulders, the degenerative stiffness that the medical board had dismissed as...
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