The Wistful Atlas
The dream began with the sound of ice cracking, a sharp, brittle scream that echoed through the marrow of Elias’s bones, waking him not to the silence of the night but to the violent, shattering roar of his own failing joints, which felt less like a body and more like a collection of brittle stones grinding against one another in the dark, a symphony of internal fracture that left him gasping...
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