The Distant Wound

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2026-08-19 21:05:24 -

The Distant Wound

The air in the Aetheric Refinery did not smell of sulfur or oil, as the old stories of the industrial age had promised, but of ozone and the metallic tang of blood, a scent that clung to the back of my throat and refused to be swallowed. I stood on the catwalk of Sector Four, my hands trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the pressure gauge before me, which read 14,000...

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