The Faded Dust
The sky did not fall; it dissolved. It came apart in long, tearing sheets of bruised violet and sickly yellow, unraveling like wet wool until there was nothing left but a roaring, white void that hummed with the sound of grinding teeth. Silas stood at the edge of the cliff, his boots sinking into the soft, gray matter of the world, watching the horizon consume itself. He was a man built for...
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