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Sebastián had left days ago.
But the emptiness he left behind was not silence...
It was density.
Virka walked without speaking. Her twelve–year–old body —increasingly resembling an adolescent in maturation— no longer carried the clumsiness of the borrowed form. Her steps were not those of a child. They were of someone who, without words, felt a direction.
And that direction... pointed to him.
Since Sebastián had merged with the earth to cultivate, th ...
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