The Distant Wound

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2026-08-22 09:36:19 -

The Distant Wound

The air in the sub-basement of the Ministry of Agricultural Compliance tasted of wet chalk and old copper, a heavy, fungal scent that clung to the back of the throat and refused to release. I, Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old and a junior auditor with twelve years of service and a pension that was slowly eroding under the weight of inflation, sat before the sample jar labeled Harmony Seed-7,...

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