The Distant Blade
You are not what they think you are. This is the first thing you must accept, though accepting it feels less like a choice and more like a stone sinking into deep water. You are a blade, worn thin by the friction of centuries, and you are walking through the gray, wet sprawl of a modern city that does not know your name. The air tastes of diesel and wet pavement, a sterile, metallic flavor that...
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