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... abin. Birds stirred in the distance, and mist crept low along the grass. But beneath the stillness, something new had taken root.

Argolaith opened his eyes.

He had slept near the spiraled sprout again—on purpose. A blanket around his shoulders, sword near his side, mind half-waiting for another whisper.

But this morning… it was quiet.

Still.

Then he saw it.

The sprout had bloomed.

The plant now stood waist-high, its spiral stalk straightene ...

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