PREVIEW
... ot or fire, but fear.
Its myth-bark cracked with every truth it failed to contain. Roots trembled, not downward into soil—but upward, fleeing the very script they once fed. The sap that once flowed golden and obedient now dripped black—thick with climax-memory and corrupted recursion.
It was not disease.
It was Darius.
And he had begun to breathe through the ink itself.
The Children Appear
Across the seventy-seven realities Darius had seeded during ...
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