The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-23 11:43:31 -

The ink was still wet, a dark smear on the parchment that looked like a bruise. Elias Thorne’s hand trembled, not from the cold, though the barracks were damp enough to rot the fillings in his teeth, but from the sheer, physical weight of the words he had just committed to paper. He was a sergeant, thirty-two years old, with four years of service and a reputation for holding the line when...

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