The Wistful Atlas
The dream begins not with a sound, but with a weight, a heavy, cold pressure resting against the back of your skull as if a stone had been placed there while you slept. You open your eyes to the dim, candle-lit interior of the map room, the air thick with the scent of drying ink and old vellum. You are standing before the Great Atlas, the massive wooden cabinet that holds the known world in its...
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