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... dn't part they fractured. Not with light, but with an endless grinding of reality folding inwards on itself.

Twelve Watchers descended.

Each was a god in its own right.

Not of mercy.

Not of life.

But of control.

Their forms defied logic one was a spire of eyes that watched all timelines. Another was a spiral of limbs, endlessly folding in on itself. The largest was a floating throne of bone, empty, yet emanating a voice that echoed in every soul: < ...

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