The Wistful Saga
The taste of copper and burnt sugar hung heavy in the air, a metallic sweetness that coated the back of young Julian’s throat as he stood frozen in the center of the shimmering, translucent corridor. Before him, the mirror-like surface of the boundary did not reflect his terrified face, but rather a grotesque, elongated distortion of it, a version of himself that had already succumbed to the...
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