The Distant Wound
The nightmare came again in the soot-choked dark of the morning, a recurring vision where the shaft walls breathed in time with Thomas’s terrified heartbeat, and his dead sister Elara stood at the bottom of the pit, holding a lantern that burned with a cold, blue fire. It was 1912, and Thomas Vane, fourteen years old and hollowed out by grief and labor, woke in his narrow bunk to find the damp...
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