The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-23 18:24:09 -

The Wistful Ashes

The rain hammered the slate roof of the Citadel, a relentless drumming that mixed with the wet smell of wool and iron. Sergeant Elias Thorne gripped his rifle, his knuckles white against the cold wood, as he held the lower gate. He was thirty years old, and his hands shook not from fear, but from the effort of keeping them still. The barricade was a mess of overturned carts and shattered...

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