The Distant Wound

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2026-08-25 07:42:17 -

The Distant Wound

The parchment lay on the workbench, the ink still wet and black as a bruise. It was a bill of lading, listing the iron filings, the ash, and the silver coins owed for the mortar. Elias signed it with a hand that trembled only when he was not holding a chisel. He was forty years old, a stonemason of the Citadel Guild, and he had spent the last two decades carving the heart of the fortress, the...

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