The Distant Promise
The house did not burn. It dissolved. I watched the timber turn to smoke, not from heat, but from absence. The roof peeled away like skin. The walls exhaled. In the silence that followed, the air tasted of ozone and wet ash. I stood in the center of the void where the kitchen had been. My hands were empty. My name is Elias. I am a tuner. We are few. We live in the Margins, the places where the...
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