The Faded Ruin
Wren woke with the taste of iron and old ash in her mouth. The dream was already dissolving, a thin mist lifting off a cold floor. She remembered the weight of it. The way the air had been too thick to breathe. She remembered the face. It was not a face she knew, yet it felt like her own reflection in a cracked mirror. She sat up. The room was small. The walls were painted a color that had once...
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