The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 05:26:31 -

The dream began with the smell of wet slate and iron. Caleb stood in the center of the atrium. The floor was black marble, polished to a mirror sheen, but it did not reflect his face. It reflected a city above him. A city of spires and glass, suspended in a void of indigo night. He looked down. He looked up. The distinction had blurred. The air tasted of ozone and old blood. He was a soldier,...

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