The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 12:09:09 -

I woke from the fever with the taste of iron and wet earth on my tongue, the memory of a dream so vivid it felt less like a thought and more like a physical wound that had not yet fully healed. In the dream, I had been walking through a forest of black glass, where every tree was a mirror reflecting not my face, but the faces of those I had failed, their eyes wide with a silent accusation that...

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