PREVIEW
... lung—shallow, ragged, angry that it still worked.
The table I’d half-melted during the forge session looked like modern art for people who hate chairs. Darkharness rested under my jacket like a cat that refused to admit it liked me; every time my pulse ticked, the weave answered with a faint, smug ripple.
[Guild Net: Partial — Text Only]
[Signal Strength: 13% → 9%]
[Transit Charges (Today): 1]
[Absolute Regeneration: Online (Throttled)]
Good enough ...
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