The Faded Photograph
"Look at the grain, Elara. It’s not just decay. It’s the texture of time wearing down the barrier between what was and what is." The voice of Master Aldric cut through the humid stillness of the apothecary, sharp and clinical, like a scalpel finding the bone. He stood by the window, where the afternoon light filtered through the dust motes dancing in the air, illuminating the intricate...
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