The Distant Blade

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2026-08-22 11:37:58 -

The Distant Blade

The glass is cold against your cheek. You remember the weight of it, how it used to feel like an extension of your own bone. Now it is just heavy. Just dead weight. "You are fading," the Voice says. It does not come from a mouth. It hums in the walls. It vibrates in the dust motes dancing in the thin, gray light that seeps through the high, barred windows. You do not answer. You are Margaret....

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