The Distant Wound

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2026-08-22 11:42:11 -

The Distant Wound

The rain against the iron gates of the Citadel was a constant, rhythmic drumming that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of your bones. You were Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, an Archivist of the lowest rank, and you had not slept in two days. Your hands were trembling as you pressed your palm against the cold, wet stone of the alleyway, waiting for the midday bell. You were not afraid of the...

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