PREVIEW

... ing—beneath worlds and words and the long stretch of silence that had followed the war. Beneath the Garden’s roots, deeper even than the Archive’s buried halls, lay something older than the Loom. Something that preceded it.

It was not narrative.

It was what came before narrative.

The First Ink.

And it was moving.

Jevan felt it in his dreams.

A slow ripple through stillness. A current running beneath all thought. It didn’t speak, not in words, but i ...

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