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Chapter 117: Echoes of the Dead
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Chapter 119: Learning to Live
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... o summer. Not the bone-deep cold of vengeful spirits, but something softer. Familiar.
Arthur’s hand trembled on the Resurrection Stone.
"Arthur?"
His mother’s voice. Exactly as he remembered—warm honey over morning tea.
"Son?"
His father. That subtle Welsh accent bleeding through, the one he’d never quite managed to polish away.
Arthur opened his eyes.
They stood before him in shimmering translucence, as vivid as they had been that final mo ...
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