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... ring scent of celestial musk and spent euphoria. Aukin, forty-nine years measured by the slow tick of his Mayana peak cultivation, traced the curve of the woman beside him, his touch light, reverent. Fairy Moon, his goddess mother, his wife, slept deeply, her perfect features softened by exhaustion, the moonlight catching the impossibly white expanse of her skin.
They had sealed the Holy Moon Sect. Not with force, but with a quiet, absolute decree delivered through a projection that made ...
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