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Echoes of the Wasteland
The desert stretched endlessly, shifting beneath a sun that never set. Ruins jutted from the sand—fractured steel, hollowed domes, remnants of something forgotten.
A distant hum pulsed beneath the wind, rhythmic, unnatural. A signal? A warning?
Footprints appeared where none should be. The shadows moved when no one walked.
Somewhere in the dunes, a machine whispered a name.
Not a real name.
Not anymore.
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