The Distant Wound

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2026-08-22 00:08:19 -

The Distant Wound

The great hall of the Iron Citadel was a cavern of cold stone and warmer wine, a place where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasting lamb and the metallic tang of fresh blood. We sat in rows of heavy oak benches, the soldiers of the Ninth Legion gathered for the Feast of the Unnamed God, a ritual that marked the end of another year of silence. The torches flickered against the vaulted...

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