The Distant Wound

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2026-08-25 05:34:57 -

The Distant Wound

The grain is gone, Maren, but the record remains. I woke with the taste of black soil and fermented chaff on my tongue, the same cloying, heavy rot that has filled Elias’s mouth in my dreams for three weeks, a visceral hallucination that the Bureau’s chemists insist is a symptom of cognitive dissonance rather than grief. I sat up in the narrow bed, the sheets stiff with sweat, and looked at the...

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