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... th the fading light of the Primogenitor’s departure.
His face was pale, but his grip on the scythe was steady.
"Did we... survive that?"
Lyra coughed beside him, brushing ash off her armor.Her lips twitched. "Barely. But the sky didn’t."
Above them, constellations began to realign—impossible symbols blooming like veins across the stars.
Suddenly—the signal pulsed again.
A high-pitched resonance drilled through their skulls.
...
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