The Distant Blade

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2026-08-25 09:25:38 -

The Distant Blade

I The ink on my fingers had dried into the creases of my skin, black and permanent, long before the gunshots. I remembered the cold first, the specific bite of the Martian winter that seeped through the thin walls of the telegraph office, a place that smelled of ozone and old dust. We were in the third generation of the colony, living in the shadow of the old irrigation channels, which now...

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