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... xlith—goddess of grace and quiet obliteration—rose like a blade unsheathing itself. Fluid. Lethal. Regal. She turned, faced the great hall, and bowed first to the throne. A deep, full bow. Not just formality—acknowledgment.

The room stilled.

Her hair fell like midnight snow across her shoulders as she raised her head and let her gaze sweep across the sea of bloodlines and ancient names seated below. Her voice came next—smooth velvet stitched in steel.

"Let it be known," s ...

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