The Parasitic Melody
The lighthouse at the edge of the world is not a beacon for ships, but a sentinel for the silence. I have been its keeper for twenty years, a man of salt and solitude, until the song began. It started as a whisper in the gale, a soprano's melody that seemed to weave through the wind. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard—a sound that promised a warmth I had forgotten existed. I...
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