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... pires clawing skyward like the fingers of a god dying.

Pale light spilled from the vast stained-glass windows, painting the cracked stones below in hues of crimson and gold. Within its sacred walls, the air was heavy — not with incense, but a tense heaviness.

In a chamber behind the altar — deeper still, past locked iron doors and muttered prayers — two cardinals sat in a windowless office, their faces grim in the candlelight.

The room was spare and cold.

A single ...

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