The Distant Metropolis
The ink is bleeding again, Feng Li thought, watching the black fluid creep across the damp page like a slow bruise forming under skin. He did not look up from the ledger, which lay open on the desk of the parish archive, its spine cracked and swollen from the recent rains that had turned the fen country into a mirror of the sky. "You are staring at it too hard," Mara said from the doorway, her...
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