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... air was thick with divine energy, warped by something darker—older.

Veyon stood at the center of the throne room, draped in obsidian robes that shimmered like oil over fire. His face was calm, eerily so, as he watched the image of Lyra's sacrifice dissolve in the sky above.

"She really did it..." he murmured, a bitter smile touching his lips. "Even after all that."

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Beside him, an Executioner knelt. "The Oracle has bro ...

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