The Wistful Asylum
The dream began not with light, but with the sound of a chime, a thin and high note that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of his bones. In the slumber, Elias was not a man of flesh and blood, but a vessel filled with water, and the chime was the cracking of that vessel, a fracture that propagated through the silence of his mind like a crack in winter ice. He woke to the grey, flat light of a...
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