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... g with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Celestia moved gracefully, pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups, her every motion precise and refined.
Aqualina stared at Marisandra with a blank yet conflicted expression.
Her heart ached as she studied the woman before her—no, not just a woman. Her daughter. It was hard to reconcile the memory of her small child with the regal and composed figure sitting across from her.
'She's grown so much... It must have ...
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