The Faded Dust

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2026-08-20 01:16:51 -

The Faded Dust

The air in the Undercroft tasted of copper and wet stone, a heavy, metallic tang that coated the back of my throat. I stood before the Great Loom, my hands trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, crushing weight of what lay before me. The threads were not silk or wool, but something pale and translucent, like spun glass or perhaps the vapor of dying breaths, woven into a tapestry that...

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