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... mered under the firelight, soft and smooth, cascading down like streams of silk. Two elegant, obsidian horns curved backward from her forehead, glinting faintly with a natural polish.

"Miss, your hair is so beautiful," Sia whispered, awestruck as she combed through the strands like someone handling sacred fabric.

Lyria didn't respond at first. Instead, she sat still, her long fingers gently cradling a glowing egg close to her chest. The firelight reflected in her deep ruby eyes, ...

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