#65 Bearing Witness
And so a third cycle came, dragging dusk behind it like a corpse.
The morning did not rise—it clawed its way through the veil, weary and trembling.
Bearing witness to a world already unraveling.
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And so a third cycle came, dragging dusk behind it like a corpse.
The morning did not rise—it clawed its way through the veil, weary and trembling.
Bearing witness to a world already unraveling.