The Pale Door
The dream began not with a light, but with the sound of a door closing, a heavy, iron-bound slab of oak that had not been opened in three hundred years, sealing the world away with a finality that felt less like an ending and more like the drawing of a curtain across the eyes of God. In the dream, the air was thick with the scent of wet stone and old blood, and the protagonist, whose name in...
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