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Rain fell silently, as if the sky itself could not bear to weep truly for such a monumental event.
The wind whipped up golden dust and shards of marble, carrying the scent of old blood and dry, wilted flowers. The remnants of Elysvarre Palace—once a royal residence filled with magic, love, and luxury—had now transformed into quiet rubble devoid of identity, mirroring lost grandeur and the deep sorrow of forgotten pasts.
Amid the ruins stood Fitran Fate, alone, without a ...
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