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ArtistO sons of flame, born of divine breath, Marked by the stars, not shaped by death. Though rivers rise and empires fall, The wolf will answer destiny’s call. She came — the she-wolf, fanged and wild, A mother now to each god-child. Beneath the fig tree’s ancient shade, They fed where blood and fate were laid.
A serene scene shows a woman in a flowing red dress seated on a rock, gazing at a majestic wolf under a moonlit sky, surrounded by lush greenery and a tranquil lake. Mystery and unity abound.
