The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 10:31:25 -

The dream was not of peace, but of the weight of stone. You stood in a hall so vast the ceiling vanished into a grey mist, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and ancient dust. Around you, the walls were lined not with paintings, but with mirrors, hundreds of them, each reflecting a different version of yourself: younger, harder, older, broken. You reached out to touch the glass, and it...

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