The Faded Road
The dream began with the sound of rustling leaves, a dry, papery whisper that seemed to come from inside Edward’s own chest. He was standing in the center of the university’s old administrative wing, a building that smelled of wet wool and old paper, but the floor was not tile or carpet. It was a thick, tangled root system, dark and knotted, pressing up through the concrete like the veins of a...
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