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... g of Black Seasons simultaneously—every possible future of Asher bringing down the scythe from a different direction. Top. Below. Side. Past. Future. Now. Always.

The King staggered. His form fractured—petals turning to dust, his voice glitching through centuries.

But he wasn't finished.

He dropped the spear.

And raised both hands.

"Last Harvest."

Every drop of time that had ever touched the King returned to him. Eons flowed backward—turning him yo ...

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