The Wistful Cipher
The cipher was not written in ink. It was etched in the decay of the air. You stand alone in the center of the Rotunda, a vast, circular hall suspended in a void of pale, misty grey. There is no sky. There is only the floor, which is made of polished obsidian, and the walls, which are made of glass so thin it is barely visible. In the center of the room, on a pedestal of white marble, sits a...
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