The Pale Protocol
The dream was a library, but the shelves were made of bone, and the books were not paper but thin, translucent sheets of ice that whispered when they fell. In the dream, Elara saw her name written on a spine, the letters carved deep and jagged, and when she reached for it, the book dissolved into a slurry of cold water that soaked through her fingers, staining her skin a bruised purple. She...
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