The Wistful Petal
Thorne. The name is called out by a voice that sounds like it is being dragged through gravel. You wake with your mouth full of the taste of rust and wet stone. The dream is already dissolving, leaving only the sensation of a hand pressing against your chest, heavy as a lead weight. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a border patrol officer with the Bureau of Internal Security, and you are...
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