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... a war-drum rhythm. Lucy followed, then Stella, then Grace and Natalie, each one moving with new clarity in their eyes. Emma’s hair was tangled, her thighs streaked with desire, but her gaze was sharp and waiting. Zoey still held her blade, but she wore it now like a crown - an ornament, not a threat.
They formed a ring again around the tree.
Around Jude and Rose.
Around the source.
Layla stepped forward first. "We felt it."
"We dreamed of it," Grace said, ...
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