The Faded Root
The glass fractured. Not shattering, not breaking, but fracturing. A web of hairline cracks spread across the floor of the central atrium. I stood in the center. The dust motes danced in the shaft of light that cut through the high windows. They were slow. They were indifferent. I watched the lines grow. They moved with a terrible, geometric precision. It was not random. It was a map. A...
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