The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-17 22:27:49 -

The wool had begun to rot at the seams before the frost even touched the ground, a slow, sweet decay that smelled of wet earth and old blood, seeping into the fibers until the garment no longer felt like cloth but like a second skin that was slowly dissolving into the air, and I stood in the center of the Great Hall, where the torchlight flickered against the vaulted stone ceiling with a...

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