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... ever burned.

It stayed, constant, one ember in the upper space. It was not just rising: it was reclaiming.

The storm had buried the heavens, choked the world in blackness, but now the sun bored through it all. It burned off the remnants of night, casting long, burnished fingers through the sky, stretching, reaching, consuming. The remnants of storm clouds, torn and defeated, slunk away toward the horizon, their edges shining like dying embers. They unraveled, dissolving, their re ...

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