The Distant Wound
The knife bit into the cork of the wine bottle, the soft, fibrous sound a small mercy in the silence of the refectory. I am Elias, an inquisitor of the Crown, and I have come to the Abbey of St. Jude to purge the heretical blight that has taken root in these stone walls. My hand, steady as iron, twists the corkscrew, and as I do, a faint, red line ignites across the back of my wrist. It burns,...
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