The Golden Oath
The jar was cold, the glass slick with condensation that beaded like sweat on Elias Thorne’s knuckles. He held it up to the dim light of the barracks, watching the amber liquid swirl, thick and viscous, smelling of burnt sugar and medicinal herbs. It was the standard-issue nutrient paste, mandated by Command for all personnel in the final deployment phase, a substance designed to sustain the...
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