The Distant Cartograph
The dream was not a dream, but a map drawn in charcoal on the skin of the earth. It was a landscape of white silence, where the wind had scoured the topsoil away to reveal the bone structure of the hills. In the center of this bleak, luminous expanse stood a single figure, a man with hands that did not belong to him. They were large, calloused, and stained with a dark, iridescent fluid that...
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