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... p> The earth here isn't like anything back home—soft and wet, almost sponge-like, as if it had once been alive. The trees reach high with limbs like fingers, branching and curling unnaturally, casting long shadows even without a sun. Strange purple moss glows in patches along the roots, illuminating paths that lead nowhere. The air hums. Not with life, but with hunger.
Around me, the others scatter.
Some run in panicked packs, their footfalls loud, clumsy. Others drop to the grou ...
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