The Distant Wound
The dream was a construction site in the rain, a skeletal grid of iron and wet concrete rising from the fog, where the air tasted of rust and ozone and the distant, rhythmic thud of a pile driver seemed to sync with the beating of his own heart. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the abyss, his boots caked in mud, looking down at the hollowed-out foundation of the world, knowing that the...
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