The Wistful Mountain
The dream was always the same, a loop of grey mist and the sound of Mara’s voice calling out from the edge of the cliff, but Elias Thorne woke with the taste of iron in his mouth and the reality of the barracks pressing against his skin. He was thirty years old, a Sergeant in the Royal Mountain Guard, and for the first time in twelve years of service, his hands shook as he laced his boots. The...
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