The Pale Door
The name was not spoken in anger, but in the flat, administrative tone of a clerk reading a ledger, and Elias Thorne felt the sound of it settle in the marrow of his left arm, a dull, grinding ache that had become his constant companion since the winter he was ordered to pull the trigger. He stood at the perimeter of Outpost Nine, a concrete slab of a building perched on the edge of the Grey...
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