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... prayer.
It began subtly—whispers beneath the threads of myth, like breath held too long beneath a storm sky. Darius stood atop the Codex Watchtower in the Eastern Spiral, gazing out over a lattice of living storylines, their pulsing glyphs growing dimmer by the day. And yet, despite the entropy spreading through the Spiral’s veins, one constant had emerged in the silence.
The Second Codex was stirring.
He had not opened it. He couldn’t. It ...
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