The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 12:13:42 -

The Distant Wound

The rain didn’t fall. It hung. A thick, gray fog clung to the cobblestones of New Albion, smelling of sulfur and wet iron. I held the brass instrument in my left hand. It was cold. Colder than it should have been. My fingers were numb, but the ache in my chest was sharper. I looked at the device. A small, intricate thing. Gears turned inside the glass casing. It hummed. A low, vibrating note....

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