The Faded Attic
The dream began with the sound of glass shattering, though no glass was there. It was the sound of a window breaking in a house that had already burned down. Elara woke with the taste of ash in her mouth. She lay still. The ceiling above her was white, plastered smooth, hiding the rot beneath. This was the Palace. Or what remained of it. The old aristocracy had fled, or died, or simply...
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