The Wistful Crossroads
The dream begins with the taste of copper and wet plaster, a sensation so vivid it anchors you to the waking world before you have fully opened your eyes, leaving you suspended in the liminal space where sleep bleeds into the grey dawn of the workshop. You are Elias Thorne, though the name feels heavy, a stone in your mouth, as you stand in the center of the great hall of the Municipal Archive,...
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