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PREVIEW
... Onyx’s luminous void-pupils dilated in dread. "W-what...?"
I repeated myself—calm, precise, sharp enough to shear the air but quiet enough not to stir the exhausted Kimchi sleeping atop my chest. "Go. Get. The. Stick."
She froze, as if shackled by an invisible verdict. Though she had never once felt the brunt of the stick’s wrath herself, the echoes of its psychic aftermath had travelled down the hivemind’s lattice of shared memory. She had tasted its consequence in futures wher ...
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