The fog grew thick, and soon his only guide through the white void was the sound of running water up ahead. And now his foot rang not against soft loam, but hard, polished stone. As he knelt, he felt the cool touch of marble.

 “Welcome.”

The voice spoke from the belly of the mists ahead, from close to that sound of running water. It was not human. Its vibrations buzzed along his brainstem.

--Written by Alexander Saxton

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