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... faint curves of the sigil warmed, cooled, then pulsed with a subtle glow she could not decide was real or imagined. She brushed her thumb over it, barely grazing the pattern.

Growing up in the holy temple meant her entire childhood was filled with superstition, omens, prophecies, and warnings wrapped in scripture. She had always been the first to look away from them. But now, with the echo of that dream still lingering behind her ribs, unease curled sharp and tight in her chest.

...

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