The Pale Fracture
The dream always began with the smell of ozone and wet limestone, a scent that clung to the back of Elias’s throat like a physical weight, a thick, metallic fog that obscured the horizon and blurred the line between the waking world and the grey, geometric purgatory where he now resided, a place that felt less like a location and more like a sustained, low-frequency hum in the bones. He stood...
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