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... wkward kind, nor the peaceful kind.
It was ancient. Watchful. Like the hush before an avalanche—the moment before some long-forgotten truth remembered how to breathe.
Raven stood still, golden eyes narrowed as the voice—no, the entity—hovered just beyond reach.
The cave’s crystals hummed faintly, shadows rippling along the jagged ceiling like ink in water.
Then, at last, she spoke.
"I suppose you’ve earned the right to know more about me." ...
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