The Faded Alibi
The air in the Hall of Echoes did not smell of dust or decay, as one might expect of a place so ancient and so forgotten, but rather of ozone and wet stone, a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of the throat and made the teeth ache with a sudden, electric clarity. It was here, in this vast, cavernous space where the walls were not stone but a shimmering, translucent membrane of trapped...
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