The Distant Legend
The dream is always the same, a viscous black tide rising from the pages of your old service ledger, soaking into the floral wallpaper of your bedroom until the roses drown in ink. You wake with the taste of iron in your mouth, your hands trembling so violently that you cannot steady the glass of water on your nightstand, the liquid sloshing over the rim to dampen the sheets. You are Elias...
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