The Faded Root
The dream is wet. You are in the cellar. The stone is cold. Your hands are full of roots. They are thick. They are white. They pulse. You wake. The room is dark. The rain hits the glass. Tap. Tap. Tap. You sit up. Your back aches. It always aches. You are old. You are Captain Elias Thorne. You stand. The floorboards groan. They have groaned for thirty years. This house is your bones. You walk...
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