The Distant Wound
The banquet hall of the Citadel, a structure of white stone that seemed to float above the fog-choked valley of the old world, was lit by a thousand gaslights that burned with a blue, cold intensity, illuminating the faces of the elite who had survived the Great Fracture and now ruled from their elevated perch, while I sat at the edge of the long table, my hands trembling slightly as I held a...
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