The Distant Blade
Thorne. The word hung in the damp air of the barracks, sharp and cold, spoken by Corporal Higgs who stood at the foot of your bunk with a stack of ledgers clutched to his chest. You sat up, the wool blanket heavy and sweating against your skin, and for a moment you could not remember where you were, only that the dream was still there, a jagged shard of glass stuck behind your teeth. In the...
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