The Pale Banner
The order slipped from Elias’s fingers, the paper damp and soft as a bruised peach. He did not read it again. He had read it three times already, and the words remained the same, cold and final in their black ink. *Sergeant Thorne is to hold the northern ridge until dawn. Failure to comply will be treated as desertion.* It was a simple directive, the kind that cost nothing to write but...
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