The Faded Frequency
We must speak plainly, Master Aldous, for the ink is drying and the candle burns low, and I find myself trembling not from the cold that seeps through the stone walls of our ancestral home but from the terrible, absolute clarity with which I now perceive the nature of our bargain, which is to say, I am writing this to you, not to the living, but to the memory of the man I was before the roots...
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