The Distant Wound

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2026-08-20 08:02:44 -

The Distant Wound

Elias woke with the taste of iron and chalk in his mouth. The taste was thick. It coated the back of his throat. He spat it out. It fell on the stone floor with a wet thud. Red. Not quite red. Darker. Like dried blood. Or rust. Or the mud that clings to the soles of boots after a long march through the lowlands. He sat up. The cell was small. The air was stale. It smelled of damp wool and old...

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