The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 01:58:58 -

The Distant Wound

The glass vial in Elias’s hand was cold, a sliver of the last thing his father had made before the fever took him, and it contained the only liquid in the city that could make a man forget his own name. Elias, thirty-two years old and an apothecary of modest reputation, stood in the shadow of the Magistrate’s tower, the guards’ spears glinting in the pale morning light as they watched him with...

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