The Distant Wound

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2026-08-24 07:22:16 -

The Distant Wound

The air in the Hall of Records tasted of ozone and dried blood, a metallic tang that Elias Thorne had learned to associate with the scent of his own compliance. He stood before the intake desk, his posture rigid, his hands clasped behind his back where the black viscous fluid known as the Ink pulsed beneath his skin, a cold, rhythmic throb that marked him as an Enforcer and, by extension, as...

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