The Distant Crown
Thorne. The word hung in the cold air of the barracks, heavy and sharp, before I even looked up from the radio. It was the way Marcus used to call my name, a summons that carried the weight of our shared silence, a code we had built brick by brick over five years of border patrols. I turned slowly, the motion stiff in my knees, and saw him standing in the doorway, his face pale in the grey...
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