The Faded Bouquet
The dream began not with a sound, but with the distinct, wet sensation of something tearing at the seam of reality. Elias Thorne found himself standing in the center of a vast, industrial cavern that he recognized with a sickening lurch of familiarity, the air thick with the smell of ozone and rotting wool. He was not alone; before him stood a figure whose face was obscured by a mask of...
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