The Faded Masquerade
The mud of the ditch was cold, a slick, heavy paste that clung to Elias Thorne’s trousers as he pushed himself up on trembling arms. He was thirty years old, a sergeant in the Royal Armoured Corps, and he had just failed to save his brother. The silence of the night was not empty; it was filled with the low, rhythmic hum of the camp beyond the wire, a sound like a giant insect breathing in its...
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