The Distant Wound
The ledger was balanced to the penny, a discipline that had kept the town of Oakhaven afloat for two hundred years. You counted the hours, not the days, because time had become a liquid thing that pooled in the corners of the Archive, thick and cold. It was the second year of the Quiet, and you had just accepted the post of Keeper. The pay was meager, barely enough for bread and coal, but the...
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