The Faded Root
The mud in the Ypres sector did not merely stick to Sergeant Elias Thorne’s boots; it seemed to possess a sentient, viscous will, sucking at his legs with the patience of a predator. He stood in the trench, the rain hammering the earth into a slurry that smelled of rot and gunpowder, his eyes fixed on the muddy path where the inspection party would soon emerge. At thirty-two, Elias had served...
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