The Pale Bonsai
Thorne. The name was not a call, but a command, spoken by the silence of the stone itself. Elias Thorne, Sergeant of the High Guard, stood in the center of the Sealed Chamber, a room so old the mortar between the blocks had turned to dust and memory. He was forty-two, a man whose joints had begun to complain with the onset of winter, but his mind was a steel trap, locked and loaded. In his...
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