The Wistful Show
The dream began not with a thought, but with the sound of ice cracking. It was a sharp, bright fracture, like a bone snapping under a heavy boot, and in the dream, Elara stood in the middle of a frozen lake that was not a lake, but the surface of her own chest. The ice was thin and blue, veined with black, and it shattered beneath her feet into a thousand jagged pieces. She did not fall. She...
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