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Chapter 131: Harbingers of Doom

Lyra's POV

The first sign comes as a whisper—reality softly screaming as it unravels one thread at a time. I stand at the edge of a dead zone, watching as colors bleed backward through the spectrum, leaving trails of impossible hues that hurt to look at directly.

My cosmic awareness pulses with warnings I can barely comprehend. Images flash through my mind: a child's tears flowing upward, crystallizing into diamonds of pure entropy; a forest where every tree remembers a different version of history; a city where time flows sideways, its inhabitants aging centuries in moments or remaining frozen in single heartbeats.

"We need to act now," I tell the gathered council, but Marcus scoffs.

"More paranoid prophecies?" he challenges. "Haven't you rewritten reality enough times already?"

Before I can respond, the ground beneath us shudders. A massive sinkhole opens—not in space, but in possibility itself. I watch in horror as probability collapses, showing us glimpses of what's coming through
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