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description
Time slipped through Aria’s fingers like sand—one moment, she stood in her cluttered apartment, the next, choking on dust in a sunlit meadow. The 21st century vanished, replaced by jagged stone towers clawing at a sky unblemished by smog or wires. Her heartbeat raced—not from fear, but recognition. This jagged horizon matched the sketches in her tattered journal, the landscapes she’d traced while dreaming of chainmail and torchlight. Uncertainty melted as she inhaled air sharp with pine and distant hearth-smoke. Days blurred into a whirl of cobbled villages, cryptic tavern tales, and sword-hilt blisters staining her palms. Now, beneath a moon swollen as a cider cask, she faced the castle. Its shadow sprawled across the hills like a slumbering beast, turrets piercing clouds. Every rusted hinge screamed as she shoved door after door—armories reeking of cold iron, chapels where saints glared through cracked stained glass. Then, the final chamber. A draft snuffed her torch. Something metallic clinked in the dark. A laugh, low and honeyed, slithered past her ear: “Late for supper, are we?” The walls seemed to lean closer. Aria’s grin widened. At last—a story worth bleeding for.
