The Distant Legend
The dream began with the smell of ozone and wet wool, a scent so specific and sharp that it felt less like a memory and more like a physical intrusion into the back of the throat, a metallic tang that coated the tongue before the eyes even opened to the gray, pre-dawn light filtering through the heavy, drawn curtains of the study. Elias Vane sat upright in the leather chair, his heart hammering...
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