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... hings didn’t matter now.


She remembered the feel of the map she had touched. She recalled its texture, its function.


Her three primary colors appeared.


The map they stole. The object that Sylva had felt began to regenerate, wobbling from the corner.


She never tried it before, but she restored it to perfection.


The mended map wasn’t any different from the original.


Even its red circles were moving the “same way” they di ...

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