The Faded Paradox
You are walking through a forest that does not exist on any map, a place where the trees are made of grey stone and the leaves are thin, translucent sheets of parchment that rustle with the sound of old, forgotten arguments. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and dried lavender, a combination that tastes metallic on your tongue, like licking a coin. You have been here for three days, or...
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