The Distant Crown
The mud in the trench had turned to a thick, sucking paste that coated Elias Thorne’s boots up to the knee, a cold weight that seemed to anchor him to the earth as much as his fear did. He gripped the hilt of his sword, the leather worn smooth by years of service, and watched the rusted blade catch the faint, grey light of the pre-dawn sky. His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed and...
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