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... ter, the obsidian throne looked as if it had grown from the ground itself, carved from the heart of an ancient volcano. Ka’ha’Uhala sat upon it—straight, radiant, her golden eyes fixed on the crowd of students. Around her, Headmistress Sahr’Veyra and several draconic commanders watched in silence, their expressions stern. Even the faintest breath felt forbidden.
Banners hanging from the vaults fluttered in a wind that came from nowhere. The air smelled of dust, iron, and old authority. < ...
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