PREVIEW

... ut it wasn’t something you could ignore either.

It sat beneath everything, like the low hum you only notice once the room goes quiet, like a bell that had been struck deep underground long ago and was still echoing through the stone.

Deacon didn’t flinch when it reached him. He watched the mirror as the feeling settled into the glass—familiar, rhythmic, unmistakably alive.

Something important had moved—something tied to the thread.

"Likely the thread," he said, vo ...

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