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Chapter 31: The choir that hungered
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Chapter 33: The thorn’s envoy
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... humming through a thousand eyes. Something old. Something strange. Something not mine.
It didn't announce itself with aggression. No creeping vines or territorial challenge. No spores mean to corrode or confuse. Just... presence. Cold and distant, like the memory of rainfall in a dying forest.
I jolted awake.
The aphids reacted first, shifting in unease. A single whisper spread across their collective instinct: 'Other'.
I tightened my vines and extended my sensor ...
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