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... f-formed, and stitched together from memory, will, and contradiction—shuddered beneath the assault of something ancient and inevitable.
Decay.
Threnos had no face, no mouth, yet the land spoke with his voice. Crops withered into brittle husks. Rivers turned black and stopped flowing. Statues of remembrance crumbled before they were even named.
All across Nexis, screams rose—not from wounds of flesh, but from the psychic unraveling of meani ...
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