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...

That moment came to me in the quiet.

I was in the nursery room, a place I hadn’t stepped into since returning from the ritual. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and wildflowers—Mayla had arranged dried petals on the windowsill for good luck. I ran my fingers along the old rocking chair, the one Darius had carved years ago. We’d never needed it before. But now, with a heartbeat fluttering gently inside me, the chair’s presence felt heavier.

Real.

I sat down in ...

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