The Golden Scar
The dream did not begin with a bang, but with a hum. It was a low, resonant vibration that started in the marrow of Elias Thorne’s knee and traveled upward, dissolving the sterile white walls of the Sanatorium for Cognitive Decline into a haze of grey mist. Elias stood, though he felt no legs. He was a consciousness suspended in a landscape that defied the geometry of the waking world. The sky...
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