The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 09:48:25 -

The Distant Wound

The parchment was cold against your fingers, the ink still damp and smelling faintly of iron and rot. It was a list, written in the cramped, authoritative hand of the High Inquisitor, detailing the seizure of the White Grain from the lower vaults. You, Aldric, Warden of the Ashen Keep, held the paper up to the flickering tallow light, your knuckles white, your breath shallow in the freezing air...

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