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... lden, inevitable.
Lucien stood at the grand gate, his silhouette cutting through the morning mist like a dark prophecy.
His travel cloak fluttered in the morning wind, midnight fabric embroidered with silver runes that pulsed with quiet power. His sword hung sheathed at his side, the hilt worn from countless hours of training. His crimson eyes stared ahead—unwavering, calculating, seeing beyond the present moment.
Beyond those gates lay the unknown. Beyond those gates sto ...
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