The Distant Journey

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2026-08-25 12:21:16 -

Could a man wash the ink from his hands before it stained his soul? Louis Thibault woke to the sound of the fish-spear of split bone tapping against the window frame, a rhythmic knock that marked the hours in the damp dark of his cell. He was forty-two, a border guard for the fortress colony, and the month was nearly out. His son’s tuition sat in a ledger at the university, a sum he could not...

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