The Pale Dance
The mud of the Siege of Varenne is not merely wet; it is a living thing that seeks to swallow you whole, sucking at your boots with a viscous, hungry pull that mirrors the exhaustion in your bones. You are Elias Thorne, Captain of the Imperial Guard, and you are thirty-two years old, a fact that feels increasingly irrelevant as the world around you collapses into a cacophony of screaming steel...
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