The Architecture of the Soul
The Library of Lost Echoes drifted in the silence between galaxies, a spire of obsidian and light that housed the ghosts of a trillion dead worlds. It was a place of perfect memory and absolute loneliness. The Archivist was no longer entirely biological. His skin was a mesh of silver filaments, and his heart was a pulsing singularity that powered the library's archives. He had lived for ten...
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