The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 15:47:29 -

The Distant Wound

The dream was not of flight, but of falling. Down a shaft of grey light, past layers of rusted iron and dripping condensation, into a dark that tasted of copper. Waking, Elias felt the taste still on his tongue. He sat up in the narrow bunk. The room hummed. A low, industrial thrum that vibrated in his teeth. Outside the frosted glass, the night was a solid block of black. Rain lashed the...

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