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... g like silk as he extended a hand over the child's brow. The boy, still dazed, whimpered softly as his father gently cradled him.

The crowd held its breath.

The Vestarch began to chant — not loudly, but in a tongue older than the common tongue, each syllable laced with a cadence that vibrated faintly in the bones of those nearby. His voice sounded like embers crackling under snow, and the runes stitched into his cuffs began to glow faintly.

Then — a pulse.

A halo ...

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