The Faded Root
The dream began, as it always did, with the sound of tearing fabric, a sharp, wet rip that echoed in the hollow space behind Elias Thorne’s eyes, a sound that was less an auditory event than a physical sensation of something vital being pulled from the center of his being, leaving a void that hummed with the residual heat of what had once occupied it. He was standing in the middle of the great...
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