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... tasting of sanctity itself. White marble halls floated above rivers of silver light, and choirs of unseen voices thrummed in the distance — a hymn woven into the bones of existence. Yet even here, unease stirred. The clouds below churned red in places, dark cracks spidering upward. Pandora’s awakening had touched even the highest plane.

Baraqiel staggered, still reeling from his escape, only to feel hands steady him.

“Rest.”

Michael’s voice was gentle, yet carried the we ...

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