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Chapter 157 - THE CATACLYSM IN THE CRADLE

The silver glare radiating from Gwen's abdomen did not behave like organic light. It did not flicker, cast warm shadows, or bow to the structural perimeter of the room. Instead, it expanded in violent, rhythmic pulses that mimicked the rapid, double-time canine cadence of a predatory fetal heartbeat.

With every thunderous thump-thump-thump vibrating through the heavy oak bedposts, the absolute-zero frequency of the unborn prince surged outward, transforming the immediate atmosphere into a frictionless, metallic dead-zone.

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