The Distant Wound

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2026-08-22 22:42:51 -

The Distant Wound

The parchment lay flat on the mahogany table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the High Chamber, and Elias Thorne stared at the signature line as if it were a trapdoor leading into a pit of quicksand. The document was a transfer order, printed on heavy cream stock that smelled faintly of lavender and old blood, and it required his seal to authorize the relocation of three hundred...

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