N the ancient room covered in vines. The old wooden ceiling had rotted
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n the ancient room covered in vines. The old wooden ceiling had rotted, revealing beams of light beneath a canopy of orange and yellow. Birds chirped, rustling playfully. Only this time, it was not summer. The air had cooled, the autumn day crisp and pure. Seated upon the dark stone in the center of the room rested the same knight I’d seen in my last dream. His gold armor that had long lost its sheen glistened dully in the autumn light. On his hip rested the same ancient sword with strange twisting branches carved into the hilt. Clouded by thought, he did not see me.
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n the ancient room covered in vines. The old wooden ceiling had rotted, revealing beams of light beneath a canopy of orange and yellow. Birds chirped, rustling playfully. Only this time, it was not summer. The air had cooled, the autumn day crisp and pure.
Seated upon the dark stone in the center of the room rested the same knight I’d seen in my last dream. His gold armor that had long lost its sheen glistened dully in the autumn light. On his hip rested the same ancient sword with strange twisting branches carved into the hilt.
Clouded by thought, he did not see me.
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