The Pale Meridian
The dream always began with the sound of a needle dragging across a vinyl record, a low, groaning friction that vibrated in the teeth before the vision arrived, a stark, vertical line of pale light splitting the twilight sky of Oakhaven like a wound that refused to close. Elara Vance woke with the taste of ozone on her tongue and the distinct, cold certainty that the line was closer today than...
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