The Wistful Ashes
Chapter One "You’re bleeding again, Sunita." The voice belonged to Mr. Thorne, the shift supervisor, who stood over her workstation in the hydroponics bay, his face a mask of bureaucratic concern. It was the night cycle, the artificial sun dimmed to a bruised orange, and the air tasted of recycled salt and ozone. Sunita looked down at her hands. Grey dust, fine as flour, coated her knuckles,...
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