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... thin the echoes of someone else—trapped between memories and being, a seed of consciousness imbued with purpose yet undefined.
Numerous eternities of memories, many of which were fleeting, while some were still scalding red unyielding to be healed.
One of those memories was pain.
It was not my own, but it flooded through me, seeping into the nascent roots of my soul.
It was her pain.
The Holy Saint. The beloved savior of Carcosa. A figure of benevolence wh ...
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