The Distant Whispers
The dream began with the sound of roots tearing through earth, a wet, rhythmic ripping that echoed in the hollows of Callum’s skull, waking him not from sleep but from a deeper, colder dormancy where his body had forgotten how to distinguish between the ground and his own bones. He lay in the mud of the valley, the air thick with the scent of rotting pine and iron, and around him the forest...
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