The Golden Master
In the dream, the city is made of glass and iron, suspended in a void of absolute, humming silence. You stand at the center of this crystalline metropolis, a figure of stillness amidst the trembling architecture. The light here is not sunlight; it is a cold, sourceless radiance that penetrates the walls, illuminating the dust motes that hang in the air like suspended ghosts. You are a soldier,...
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