"He had been here before, lots of times. He'd grown up with this recurring dream forest. Its roots were tangled in his veins. The air moved around him, and in it, he heard his name. Ronan Lynch Ronan Lynch Ronan Lynch There was no one there but Ronan, the trees, and the things the trees dreamt of. He danced on the knife's edge between awareness and sleep. When he dreamt like this, he was a king." I have chills
— Apr 14, 2025 08:23AM
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