The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 04:30:55 -

The Distant Wound

The banquet hall smells of iron and roasted pork. You sit at the long oak table, your hands resting on the polished wood. They are steady. You are the Forger of the State, the only man in the province who knows how to make a soul stick to a body. The walls are lined with tapestries that weep a fine mist of amber rain. Outside, the siege engines pound the city gates. The rhythm is a drumbeat in...

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