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... e been a symbol of barrenness, now lie silent in a tense atmosphere. Not out of fear, but because of a recognition that fills the sky. The city seems to hold its breath, trapped between time, afraid to disturb something greater than history, more sacred than magic, and more magnificent than death: the birth of life from the void.
Beelzebub lay on warm cloths spread by Fitran within the ruins of the Temple of Reversal. The walls that once crumbled now stand like graceful protectors—not of ...
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