PREVIEW

... ul—just still. Time had no meaning here. Memory ebbed and flowed like distant stars blinking behind clouds.

There had been voices once. Dreams. Faces.

But they were echoes.

For so long, he had slept in the quiet cradle between life and death, not truly dreaming, not truly gone.

Then, something touched him.

A warmth, familiar… achingly familiar.

It was not a memory—it was a presence.

Golden. Fierce. Heartbreaking.

Harley.

He ...

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