The Faded Paradox

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2026-08-20 09:42:22 -

The Faded Paradox

The dream always began with the scent of ozone and old copper, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat before I even opened my eyes. I was standing in the Great Hall of the Citadel, a place that had been reduced to rubble and memory three centuries before I was born, yet it stood there in the dream, pristine and terrifyingly real. The walls were high, vaulted with stone that seemed to...

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