The Distant Crown
The shrapnel did not sing as it tore through the air, a fact that Elias Vane found more terrifying than the sound, for the silence of the dying thing was a silence that had been waiting in his bones for thirty years, a hollow resonance that mirrored the empty space behind his own ribs where his heart should have been beating with the regular, reassuring thud of a man who believed he was whole....
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