The Ivory Whisper
I remember the first time I felt the warmth. It wasn't the warmth of a fire or the sun, but a rhythmic, pulsing heat that wrapped around my consciousness like a heavy velvet blanket. I did not have a name then, only a sensation of belonging and a profound, echoing silence. I was born into a world of shadows and salt. My first memory is not of light, but of a voice—a low, gravelly rumble that...
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