The Faded Root
14th October, 1913. You wake in the dark of the barracks, the air thick with the scent of stale coal and unwashed wool, and the first thing you know is that your left hand is no longer entirely yours, for a thick, gnarled root has burst through the skin of your palm, pulsing with a faint, bioluminescent green light that casts long, sickly shadows against the peeling plaster of the wall. You are...
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