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... ut space. About the systems. About what waited beyond the atmosphere. Instead, he’d been fed curated history. Warped missions. Performance-based morality.

I wanted to believe them, he thought, the weight of it thick in his chest.

His fist clenched again.

This time, it responded. The motion was slow—sluggish like thawing ice—but it responded. His knuckles drew inward. Muscle pressed against crystal.

He swung his arm inward, dragging it across his torso with effort. ...

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❄️❄️❄️

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