The Faded Dust
You stand in the center of the Great Hall, the floor beneath your feet polished to a mirror sheen that reflects your own distorted, elongated shadow, a visual echo of the man you have spent the last decade trying to become, a scholar of the old ways, a keeper of the fading dust that settles in the corners of the world, and you are holding it, this small, velvet pouch, this weight of memory that...
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