PREVIEW
... aressing the ancient stones with a false tenderness that masks the inevitable cruelty of time. Red dust crackles softly each time it is blown, creating a thin fog that covers the sky above a vast unnamed basin—a wound in the skin of the earth that never heals and stands as a silent witness to the passage of time.
At the edge of the yawning chasm, two figures stand.
The first wears a long black coat with tassels that have worn out from the journey of a thousand nights. In her eyes ...
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