The Distant Affair
You wake in the gray half-light of the dormitory, the taste of rust and iron still clinging to the back of your throat. It is not a dream, though it feels like the residue of one, a heavy, viscous thing that settles in the lungs before the mind fully wakes. You are Elias Thorne, and you are a weapon. Or at least, that is what the men in the black coats with the brass buttons say. You are a...
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