The Distant Wound
The form lay on the desk, a sheet of heavy, cream-colored paper that weighed more than the truth it carried. Elias Thorne held the pen, the metal cold against his thumb, and stared at the line marked *Genetic Instability Index: Critical*. Below it, a box waited for his signature. One stroke. That was all it took to surrender his daughter, Elara, to the Ministry of Continuity’s Harvest. He had...
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