The Wistful Crossroads
The feast was not held in a hall of stone or wood, but in the hollow of the earth itself, a vast, subterranean cavern where the air tasted of wet slate and the ancient, metallic tang of deep-time minerals, a place where the light did not come from the sun but from the bioluminescent mosses that clung to the jagged walls, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat that synchronized itself to the...
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