PREVIEW
... dows clung like living tar, Atlas descended.
The air changed the deeper he went—not merely thinning, but remembering. Every breath tasted ancient, metallic, layered with the bitterness of sulfur and the cold sweetness of sap older than stars. Pressure wrapped around him from all sides, not crushing, but measuring, as though the world itself were aware of his passage and weighing whether he belonged this deep within its bones.
The cat balanced easily on his shoulder, its weight ne ...
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