The Faded Paradox
I woke in the static. Not the silence of sleep, but the hiss of a dead channel. The air tasted of ozone and rust. I was standing in the center of the Great Hall, a structure of impossible geometry. The walls breathed. They expanded and contracted with a slow, rhythmic pulse, like the lungs of a dying god. The floor was black glass, seamless and cold. It reflected not my face, but a void. A...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen