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Cosmic Ruler - Chapter 694: Garden XVI
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... like wind. But like a thought so patient, it didn't need to rush to become language.
And in the breath, something new began.
Not spoken.
Not sung.
Not etched.
But lived.
—
The child—the one born from the second seed, from the shared voice—wandered past the fields of unspooling hymns, barefoot, as always. Wherever they stepped, threads of narrative did not rush to shape them, but curved gently, yielding like grass to breeze.
They sa ...
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