The Distant Temple
The dream begins not with light, but with the sterile, humming scent of antiseptic and the faint, metallic tang of ozone that clings to the air like a persistent, invisible film. You are standing in a corridor that stretches with the endless, geometric precision of a hospital wing, the walls a seamless, clinical white that seems to vibrate with a low-frequency hum, a sound so deep it is felt in...
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