The Distant Clue
The dream began not with light, but with the heavy, cloying scent of crushed lavender and wet stone, a fragility that hung in the air like a premonition, and in that suspended moment, before the waking world could assert its brutal geometry, he held the bird in his hands, a small, trembling creature of grey feathers and fractured bone, its eyes wide and unblinking, reflecting a sky that did not...
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