The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 03:03:43 -

The Distant Wound

You stand in the antechamber. The air is thick with the smell of wet wool and old dust. It is a scent that clings to the skin. You are alone. The corridor stretches before you, a long throat of gray stone. It leads to the Ministry of Order. The lights are low. They flicker with a dull, amber pulse. You watch the dust motes dance in the beams. They move without purpose. Like your thoughts. You...

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