The Distant Blade

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2026-08-22 06:31:28 -

The Distant Blade

The dream is always the same: a black river of obsidian shattering against a granite anvil, the sound like a bone snapping in the deep of the night. I wake with the taste of iron on my tongue and the distinct, physical ache of a phantom limb, a throbbing pain in my right hand where no wound exists. I am forty-two years old, a man who has spent the last two decades cataloging the dead, yet I am...

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