The Distant Nightmare

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2026-08-19 16:43:51 -

The bell above the door did not ring. It was too heavy for the draft, or perhaps too tired to care. Margaret stood at the center of the workshop, her hands buried in a basin of cold water and ash. The smell was of iron and old blood. She was not washing her hands. She was counting the seconds. One. Two. Three. The water lapped against her wrists, a slow, rhythmic whisper that competed with the...

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