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... God looked down at Lucia’s crumpled, unconscious form with something between disappointment and pity.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Lucia’s eyes fluttered open.
But there was no recognition in them. No warmth. No trace of defiance or sorrow.
Just an eerie stillness—her violet irises glowing faintly with divine light, devoid of the spark that had once made her distinct among the gods.
She rose mechanically, every movement precise and lifeless ...
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