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... ot just brighter—but more intentional.
As if the world itself had exhaled after Kaela’s return to form.
And within the heart of the citadel garden, nestled between stones shaped by no hand, the Seedling pulsed.
It no longer looked like a plant.
Its tendrils had coiled inward, forming a cocoon of shimmering roots—each one pulsing with silent language. Words without tongue. Memory without time.
Darius stood before it, hands ...
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