The Wistful Ashes
The blade bit into the flesh. It was a shallow cut, no deeper than a coin, but the pain was immediate and electric. It traveled up the forearm, bypassing the mind, settling directly in the bone. Marcus looked down. The hand was his own. The skin was pale, translucent in the grey light of the cell. A bead of blood welled up, bright and shocking against the white of the bone. He watched it form....
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