The Faded Paradox
The count was always the same. Three hundred and twelve posts. That was the official number for Sector 4, a stretch of wire and timber that marked the jagged edge of the jurisdiction. Elias Thorne checked the ledger for the third time, his finger tracing the ink lines until they blurred. He was thirty-four, and his body felt older, a collection of aching joints that protested the damp cold of...
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