The Distant Wound

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2026-08-19 17:02:52 -

The Distant Wound

The furnace room smelled of wet ash and iron, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat like the memory of blood. I stood before the great bellows, my hands stained with soot that had seeped into the whorls of my fingerprints, a permanent map of my trade. Outside, the wind howled across the valley, a low, mournful sound that vibrated through the stone walls of the mill. It was a night...

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