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... ared breath, like a prayer.

And in that single moment, I feel it.

The pain she hides behind all her laughter and blade-work.

The sorrow she tries to outrun.

The loss she pretends not to grieve.

It's there, beneath every smirk, behind every brutal swing of her sword.

Then, her voice cracks.

Just barely.

"But look…" she chokes, swallowing hard. Her hand rises, trembling just slightly, gesturing toward the world around us—

...

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