The Distant Cartograph
The dream began with the smell of wet ash. It was a thick, choking scent. It sat in the back of the throat. It did not go away. Elara woke. She was in a room of white stone. The walls were high. The air was cold. She looked at her hands. They were old. The skin was paper-thin. The veins stood out like blue roots. She knew this. She had always known this. She stood up. Her knees cracked. It was...
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