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... ana, thick like smoke from a funeral pyre that had burned for a thousand years. Rubble littered the obsidian floor—fragments of ancient runes that had once held the power to bind gods now glowing faintly under the moonlight that bled through the fractured ceiling above like silver tears.

Valerian stood with one boot planted atop the broken statue of the First King, grinding marble dust beneath his heel. The monument—a symbol of the old world’s glory—crumbled beneath him like everything e ...

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