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The moons—if that’s what they were—answered in small ways. A light would brighten when someone hummed; another would dim when the old woman recited a nursery line. When Aria spoke a name from her mother’s kitchen, one of the moons blinked twice, and everyone around her wept a little without meaning to. She downloaded it on a rainy Thursday, watching
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Someone eventually decoded a technical diagram tucked into an odd corner of Mira’s files. It read like an apology: a blueprint for small