The Distant Wound

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2026-08-20 05:05:48 -

The Distant Wound

The banquet hall of the Foundry District was a cathedral of smoke and brass, its air thick with the metallic tang of heated iron and the sweet, cloying scent of burnt sugar that the city’s engineers claimed was the perfume of progress. In the center, a massive table groaned under the weight of silver platters and crystal decanters, surrounded by the elite of the industrial age, men whose hands...

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