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... e air around it shimmered, vibrating with restrained energy, as if the weapon had not only weight, but will. As if the sword had not been touched by time at all, it rested, still alive and breathing, on the floor before the throne.
It pulsed faintly with a deep red glow, in time with something deeper than heartbeats, like a song being sung through the heartbeat of something ancient and patient.
Miles stood before it, hesitant.
The figure on the throne had fallen still, as ...
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