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... ken cocoon, the ink still dripping from the shattered shell like the bleeding husk of a lie long told. His body ached. His coat was in tatters. His blade was broken.
And Shinji stood before him.
Alive, changed, and twisted like a story told a thousand times.
"What did you do?" Miles asked, his voice hoarse, cracked like parchment dried in the sun.
Shinji smiled. He looked like himself, mostly. The lines of his face were the same, but his eyes weren’t. They were bo ...
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