The Distant Journey

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2026-08-18 22:09:51 -

The dream was always the same, a recurring bruise of violet and ash that pressed against the back of your eyelids before you woke in the damp chill of the stone chamber. In the dream, you were standing in the town square of Oakhaven, a place that existed only in the collective memory of the high towers, and you were holding a seal. The seal was made of black wax and silver, imprinted with a...

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