...and so he was cast to the beach of Earth,
where the restless tide and heaving fathoms take no rest,
a cycle of worms, dust and dirt defined,
perfect abode for a spirit defiled.
The sun here shines, scorches,
and in all its brightness,
it brings lumination to a world of darkness.
Such is the realm of the fractured light.
We have eaten less in 8 weeks than anyone should in seven days. We have upgraded our assault to the maximum human limit. But the sickness has returned, annihilating all in its course. Readily bled out, immensely fatigued, malnourished, the ice we thread runs ever thinner. If we do not break out in the coming weeks, and unless we receive reinforcements, we are finished. No other way to define our immediate and impending situation. We are being annihilated and soon there shall be nothing left. We are ready for everything, anything. And the last round is reserved, chambered and locked.

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