The Distant Threshold
The dream has no horizon, only a vertical drop of pale, sterile light that feels less like illumination and more like an absence of shadow, a blinding void where the geometry of the world has been stripped away to its bare, trembling bone. You are standing on the edge of this nothingness, your boots sinking into a substance that is not dirt but a thick, viscous slurry of white petals, crushed...
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