The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 23:27:21 -

The Distant Wound

The ink was supposed to be black, but it was the color of a bruise, and it was moving. Elias stood before the lectern in the Iron Monastery’s scriptorium, his quill trembling as the line of text he had just copied began to swell. He was twelve years old, the youngest novice in the Order of the Scribe, and his hands were stained with the violet fluid that had seeped from the parchment before he...

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