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... rolls and churns, resembling black ink struggling to rewrite itself.
Fitran stands in the midst of darkness, her body surrounded by Voidlings that have now transformed—they are no longer mere small shadows. They have evolved into living concepts, manifestations of unanswered letters, hugs that never materialized, and voices erased from memory. Every movement they make stirs a cold breeze, as if each Voidling carries fragments of the emptiness that signify existence, creating an illusion ...
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