The Pale Banner
The dream does not wake you; it keeps you. You are standing in a library that has no ceiling, only a vast, swirling expanse of starlight that pulses with a slow, rhythmic breath, as if the universe itself is a lung expanding and contracting around the silence. The shelves stretch up into the infinite, lined not with paper books but with bound volumes of glass, their spines glowing with a faint,...
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