The Faded Ruin
The dream was made of glass and ash. Elias stood in a cathedral that had never been built, its vaulted ceilings open to a sky the color of bruised plums. The floor was shattered. Not broken, but shattered. A million shards of mirror lay scattered like fallen teeth, reflecting a face that was not his own. It was a face of stone, cold and featureless, staring back with eyes of polished obsidian....
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