The Golden Myth
The dream began not with a sound but with a smell, the sharp, metallic tang of ozone mixed with the damp, earthy scent of peat moss, a scent that Elara had not encountered in the waking world since she was a child, yet it flooded her senses with the visceral immediacy of a memory that was not entirely her own, and in the dim, amber light of the dream she stood before a door that was not a door...
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