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... ermission.

Each sheet shimmered as it descended—blank, yes, but brimming with potential so dense it warped the air. Some landed in the Garden, becoming petals. Others vanished into the hands of those who had forgotten how to hope. Still others—floated toward the Unwritten.

And they paused.

The tide of them, once a roaring, howling march of aborted timelines, stood still at the broken edge of the world.

They reached out.

And for the first time since they ha ...

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