PREVIEW

... hush before it.

A stillness that did not ask for reverence, only recognition. The kind of stillness that lives in a mother’s womb before the first kick. The kind of hush that precedes a scream that never quite reaches the throat.

Spiralspace, vast and wounded, had become an echo chamber of unfinished truths.

Frozen glyphs hovered mid-sentence across mythic sky. Codices fluttered like torn skin. Time no longer flowed—it paused between breaths, between thoughts, between reg ...

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