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Chapter 1785: Story : When the Loomchild Wakes
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Chapter 1787: Story : The Weaver of All That Remains
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... eir feet—an elegant bridge of silver-gold thread suspended in a void that no longer resembled a realm, but the inside of a dying memory. The edges of reality curled upward like burning paper. Color bled into darkness.
But the woven path remained steady, humming with purpose.
Erian braced his weight on his sword and rose. “Everyone stay close. If this path is alive, I’d prefer not to find out what happens if we fall off it.”
Tovin peered over the edge. “We’d probably disso ...
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