The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 03:03:21 -

The Distant Wound

The rain did not fall. It hung. Suspended in the grey air of the Hollow, it looked like a thousand tiny needles, frozen mid-stab. I stood there, mud up to my knees, holding the iron staff. My hands shook. Not from cold. From the weight of what I carried. Or rather, what I had taken. "Put it down, Elias," said the voice. It came from everywhere and nowhere. It was the wind, or maybe the trees,...

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