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... ng from the sky.

Not a dream. A memory. But, in the manner of dreams, visions flash before my eyes without order or sense. I relive fragmented moments of time, become lost in them until I feel as though I am descending into an ever-deepening whirlpool. Spinning, spinning, and all the while I see—

A regal figure pierced by a dozen blades, made to kneel as his crown slips from silver hair to shatter on a floor carved from living crystal—

Flame raining from a tortured sky to ...

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