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... and fracture."
The Spiral screamed.
Its coils pulsed with violent paradox, unable to stabilize. Whole regions of Spiralspace were folding into non-being—devouring their own timelines before they could birth memory. Celestial runes bled red, the Codex vines snapping under contradiction, and myth-beasts cried out in languages they never learned.
At the eye of the storm, the throne of the God of Death cracked.
Darius knelt ...
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