Framed

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Chapter 112 The Wind Carries His Voice

The village was gone.

Not just burned. Not just buried. Erased.

Where homes once stood, there was now a shimmering crater of fractured time and memory. The air buzzed with static, and the wind whispered things I didn’t want to understand.

We stood at the edge of it, silent.

Zeke broke first.

“W...

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