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Chapter 18: Chasing Threads, V
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... silent on the frost-covered leaves. She never hesitated, even when the path twisted or vanished entirely. She said nothing for hours—just pointed once, toward the narrow bend in the trees.
That's when we saw it.
A mansion. Or what remained of one.
Its gates had long since collapsed. Ivy strangled the wooden beams. The roof sagged like it had given up long ago. Wind whistled through open spaces where the walls had once been.
And yet something inside still breathed ...
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