PREVIEW
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A full moon hung above the sacred river, its pale light spreading across the flowing water like a silver veil. The river moved gently through the sleeping forests, carrying prayers, memories, and the whispers of ancient ages.
This was Mother Ganga.
The sacred river who had once descended from heaven itself.
Tonight, something unusual floated upon her current.
A small wooden basket drifted slowly along the holy water.
Inside the basket lay a newborn chi ...
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