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... llowed.
There had once been three voices in the Deathsong: a piercing high tone, a guttural hum, and the ceaseless whisper beneath. Each born of a resonance node. Two were gone now.
The soprano had fallen with the Wildfang Node. The bass had died with the Warden’s Bloom.
Only the whisper remained.
Not from behind. Not from the walls. From everywhere.
They were no longer ambiance. No longer echoes.
They were targeted.
Soft, beckoning phrases ...
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