The Wistful Throne
Thorne, move your ass or we all freeze here. The voice of Corporal Vance cracked through the wind, sharp and familiar, pulling Elias Thorne from the grey blur of the tundra. Elias did not look back. He looked forward, at the six men strung out behind him like a chain of rusted links, their breath pluming in the air that felt less like atmosphere and more like a physical weight pressing against...
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