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... rouded in veils of mist, the kind that once drove sages mad and monks to break their vows under the guise of "observing heavenly phenomena."
Volcanic winds kissed the trees below, carrying ribbons of ember-silk from the spire's molten core. The heat moved lazily, curling around leaves like a slutty flame sprite stretching after a thousand-year nap.
Beneath a grove of gnarled spirit trees, branches heavy with dew and secrets, a figure stirred under her Veil.
Ranran, or so ...
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