The Distant Wound

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2026-08-19 02:04:23 -

The Distant Wound

The air in the observation cell tastes of stale copper and damp concrete, a heavy, industrial tang that coats the back of your throat and settles deep in your lungs, where it mingles with the persistent, rattling cough that has become your second heartbeat since the diagnosis. You are Major Elias Thorne, or so the badge on your chest still claims, though the metal feels cold and foreign against...

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