The Distant Wound
The gate stood open. It had always stood open, in the minds of the men who served the Order, but today the hinges screamed. A sound like a bone snapping. Cael stared at the iron. It was black. Rust had eaten the silver inlay. He stepped through. The air tasted of ash and old blood. The sky was not blue. It was a bruise. Purple and swollen. It did not move. It did not blink. It just hung there,...
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