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Recovered from the Canticles of the Skyward Host, Vol. III — transcription incomplete.
When the long night had devoured every fire, when even the stars themselves had forgotten how to rise, she appeared — not as a savior, but as an ending carried in grace. Her light was not born of mercy; it was the first truth spoken again after ages of silence.
Worlds turned to face her as flowers to the sun, and for an instant, the cosmos remembered what it meant to shine.