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... but with hymns of unraveling.

‎A thousand voices, woven in paradox and pain, descended from the tear in the firmament above the Black Citadel. The War Choirs of the Forsaken had arrived—celestial constructs forged in anti-light, birthed from the godless edges of divine memory.

‎They sang, not in melody, but in laws.

‎Each note was a command.

‎Each harmony rewrote.

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