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... ars, their divine presence warping the terrain beneath them. When they reached the fault zone, the atmosphere was oppressive. The wind had stopped. The air tasted of ozone and ancient dust. The ground for kilometers was unnaturally smooth, polished into a glassy sheen.
At the center of the devastation stood the Sovereign. It did not turn to face them. It simply stood there, hands clasped behind its back, staring toward the horizon as if waiting for a guest who was late.
Ann des ...
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