The Distant Wound

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2026-08-17 14:02:05 -

The Distant Wound

The iron bowl sat in the center of the table, a hollow, dark eye staring up at the vaulted ceiling of the keep. It was a thing of terrible utility, forged by hands that had long since turned to dust, and it held the water that kept the hunger at bay. But water was not enough. Not anymore. The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of wet stone and old blood, a perfume that had settled into...

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