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... ished blade—silver, sharp, impossibly smooth. Each step sent ripples across its surface as though they were walking upon a river made of light. The Weave trembled, its threads vibrating in anxious anticipation.
Tovin exhaled slowly. “This path feels... dangerous.”
Marra nodded. “It feels like choice. Like every step could go wrong.”
Erian’s eyes sharpened. “A fracture born from decisions. Or indecisions.”
The corridor opened into a vast chamber that appeared empty ...
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