The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-21 12:42:56 -

The brass compass in your left palm is warm, not with the heat of your own blood, but with a fever that has nothing to do with the autumn chill seeping through the wool of your uniform trousers, a warmth that pulses in time with the strange, low-frequency hum that has settled into the marrow of your bones since dawn, a hum that the men in the watchtower claim they can hear in their teeth but...

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