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... harp and terrible, like a thousand glass mirrors shattering at once. The sound cut through the air and into her bones, leaving no place untouched.

Nyra flinched back, her sword snapping up on instinct. Before her, the lattice writhed and twisted, as if alive. Light bled into shadow and shadow bled back into light, strands of broken code snapping apart, stitching themselves together, then breaking again—over and over, without end.

Her chest tightened as she watched. The crack spre ...

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