The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 07:30:38 -

The Distant Wound

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pork and ozone. It was a smell that did not mix. The meat was charred, blackened, dripping onto the cobblestones below the raised platform. The air shimmered. Heat waves rose from the iron grates. They distorted the faces of the men. The men sat in rows. They wore coats of gray wool. Their ties were tight. Their jaws were set. Elias Thorne sat at the head of...

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