The Distant Blade
Act I The ink had begun to seep under my fingernails before I noticed the pain, a cool, wet intrusion that felt less like a wound and more like a correction being made to the map I held in my hands. I woke in the care-home day room, the television low and staticky in the corner, showing a weather map of Moravia that bore no resemblance to the landscape outside, where the salt was already eating...
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