The Distant Journey

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2026-08-18 03:39:35 -

The hall smelled of wax and iron. It was the Feast of St. Jude. I stood by the pillar. My hand was steady. The crystal cup trembled. I was a lieutenant then. Young. Hot-blooded. The air was thick. Smoke from the chimney. Scent of roasted duck. Laughter echoed. It sounded like water. It sounded like wind. I looked at the floor. The tiles were black. They were white. They formed a path. A...

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