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... yer made manifest in stone. Its spires—a thousand granite needles piercing the burnt amber sky—cast long shadows across processional boulevards where incense smoke hung thick as battle fog. Pilgrims crowded these ancient thoroughfares, their bodies an undulating mass of devotion, faces upturned in rapturous anticipation.

Today was a day of fulfillment. Today was the day the prophecies would be made flesh.

In the central plaza, before the Spire of Ascension, stood Lorgar Aurelian, ...

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