Voltalis was no re monster. It was the Lightning Unicorn King—the Sovereign of the Storm Valley. Twenty feet tall, it towered like a living monunt to thunder and ruin, a colossal being of savage majesty and raw, untad power. Its midnight-blue coat shimred beneath the stormlight, veined with deep purples and streaked by crackling ribbons of electric white, pale blue, and violet that coursed across its rippling muscles, flowing mane, lashing tail, and glowing hooves like living lightning trapped beneath flesh.
Its mane and tail were not simply charged with energy—they lived with it. Arcs of lightning danced along every strand, writhing like liquid fire as they reached hungrily into the rain-soaked air.
The horn was long and spiraled, wrought from translucent energy that crowned Voltalis like a divine diadem. Veins of pure electricity coiled upward toward the crimson-tinged tip, binding the Lightning Unicorn King to the endless tempest that ravaged the Storm Valley. And its eyes—ancient, storm-lit eyes—burned with fierce intelligence and terrible authority. Within them churned the fury of countless tempests, the mory of city-states rising and crumbling across the ages, repeatedly through the march of millennia.
Rain and mist swirled endlessly around its hooves, hissing into faint scorch marks wherever it stood. The air itself trembled with static as small storm clouds orbited its massive fra. Lightning leapt between Voltalis and the heavens above, while glowing sigils flickered into existence around its feet before vanishing into the storm. Even the wind bent in its presence, and scattered debris drifted as though compelled by an unseen command. Every pulse of those glowing veins echoed the rhythm of the thunder overhead, marking Voltalis as both monarch and living embodint of the storm itself—a godlike force of nature, awe-inspiring and terrifying beyond mortal asure.
Voltalis was not mortal. The Lightning Unicorn King was a being that had existed since ti immorial, existed now, and would continue to exist until the end of all things. Should it fall—whether to the blades of a worthy adversary or the slow stillness brought by the weight of centuries—death would never claim it for long. Its corpse would simply remain within the Storm Valley as every storm in the land descended upon it in unrelenting fury. For months the heavens would strike its fallen body without pause, each bolt feeding power back into flesh and bone, each thunderclap breathing life anew into the Sovereign of the Storm Valley until, at last, the beast rose once more. Reborn.
A phoenix, perhaps, was the truer comparison.
For Voltalis was an immortal unicorn that had never known true death, because it had never once abandoned its Sovereignty. Here, within the endless storms of the valley, it was eternal. The very elent itself bowed before the Lightning Unicorn King. If flesh was its body, then every storm within this land was its blood. Every thunderhead beca an artery or a vein. Every bolt of lightning was a pulse within its vast immortal form. The storms themselves acted as living guardians—white blood cells born from the wrath of the heavens, existing solely to destroy any malignant force foolish enough to threaten their king.
Even still…
The small creature—the elf borne aloft upon wings—did not avert its gaze when confronted by the curtain of lightning. Nor did it flee when the Sovereign of the Storm Valley erged to grace the storm-ridden land with its terrible presence. Even when Voltalis unleashed its opening attack and failed to strike the creature down, the elf did not flinch.
It knew.
This insignificant being must have understood exactly what the Lightning Unicorn King was capable of. Yet within those ancient eyes—eyes that carried the intelligence and fury of an endless storm—Voltalis saw nothing that even remotely resembled fear reflected back at it.
“You are mighty,” the creature said, crossing her arms as the batlike wings upon her back fluttered softly to keep her suspended within the storm. “More than worthy of your title and reputation, Your Majesty. But alas… I am not the average elf. I am not even the average Vredi.”
That word.
Vredi.
It stirred sothing ancient within Voltalis. The Lightning Unicorn King did not blink. It knew the na. Knew the legends whispered across the ages—of a clan of High Elves born from a mythical forest, and of the princess who had risen above all others to beco the greatest Soul Warrior of her era, the one who had stood against the Dark Lord of Tyranny and helped seal her away.
“Oh?” the creature mused, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she noticed the shift within the great beast. “So you do recognize it. Yes… in so ways, I am a Vredi. At the very least, the world believes I am. My na is Lyudmila Vredi Springfield.”
Her crimson eyes glead with knowing amusent.
“You have never been given a worthy fight, have you?”
Voltalis snorted.
The heavens answered instantly. The storm clouds above split apart as a colossal bolt of lightning—thick as an ancient tree—ca crashing down upon the hovering elf. The world flashed white. Thunder roared across the valley with enough force to shake the mountains themselves.
Yet she did not move.
She did not raise her hand. She did not defend herself. She simply allowed the lightning to strike her directly.
Dead, she should have been.
Alive, she remained.
“I will not fight you,” Lord Springfield said calmly, as though she had not just endured the wrath of the storm itself. “Not while I am still acclimating to the absurd amount of SP I spent. No… your opponent will be Ira—the Essence of Wrath.”
Voltalis’s ancient eyes narrowed once more in recognition. Slowly, the Lightning Unicorn King turned its massive head toward the second creature—the one marked unmistakably by the traits of Dragonfolk.
“Kill her, and you may live. Die, and you will belong to . It is as simple as that.”
Her voice remained maddeningly calm.
“Accepting rely allows the duel to begin on equal terms. Refusal changes nothing. The battle will begin regardless.”
Then she smiled. It was not kindness that curved her lips, but arrogance so absolute that the storm clouds themselves crackled with indignation.
“I suggest accepting and ending the duel as quickly as possible,” she said. “Because you will die, Sovereign of the Storm Valley.”
The smirk deepened.
“The only question is…”
Lightning growled through the heavens above as her gaze shifted toward the colossal monarch of storms.
“How much of a fight will you give her?”
The creature vanished.
Voltalis’s ancient gaze snapped upward toward Lyudmila Vredi Springfield as she hovered effortlessly within the storm. Her arms remained crossed in lazy indifference, and she even yawned, utterly unimpressed by the overwhelming presence of the Lightning Unicorn King.
The Sovereign of the Storm Valley roared—not a re whinny, but a thunderous bellow that shook the heavens themselves. Crimson lightning infected the translucent horn upon its brow before erupting outward in a jagged bolt that zigzagged violently through the storm-ridden air. It was fast—faster than mortal sight could properly follow. It was, after all, lightning that surpassed lightning itself.
And yet… it struck nothing.
The tree-wide spear of killing intent tore through empty air where Lord Springfield should have been.
“You do not need to be honorable,” Lord Springfield said casually from far across the battlefield, her voice carrying clearly even above the endless thunder splitting the heavens apart. “Fight, Ira. Go on. I know you desire a challenge. What better opponent could there be than the Lightning Unicorn King?” Her lips curled faintly. “Make proud. Kill it.”
“As you command, Lord Springfield.”
Flas twisted together within Ira’s grasp, forming into the shape of a blazing sword as obsidian draconic armor manifested across her body in jagged plates of blackened scale and tal. She stood barely six feet tall—perhaps slightly more, perhaps slightly less. In comparison to Voltalis, she was insignificant in size.
The Lightning Unicorn King towered twenty feet high. Pure lightning rampaged through its colossal form. And it was furious—more furious than it had been in centuries untold.
The battle began not with movent, but with a declaration of war.
[Stormcaller]—the ancient ability responsible for the eternal tempest surrounding the valley—shifted. The endless storm that had once stretched across the entire mountain range began to compress inward upon itself. The heavens scread as countless thunderclouds condensed into a confined radius barely fifty ters wide.
Then the lightning fell.
An entire valley’s worth of storms descended upon the self-imposed arena in catastrophic fury. The world beca white and violet as countless bolts hamred the battlefield without rcy, turning stone to molten ruin beneath their wrath.
Yet Lord Springfield rely retrieved a fragnt of the strange black tal—the lightning rods-- and raised it lazily into the air.
That alone beca a beacon. Every stray bolt diverted harmlessly toward it. Not that the assistance was necessary.
From above, Lyudmila simply watched as Ira surged through the storm around Voltalis, one arm extended while barrages of cylindrical orbs forged from twisted fla erupted through the chaos like teors born from wrath itself.
The Essence of Wrath could have swept the storm aside without effort, but Ira wanted to see what the creature was truly capable of.
Voltalis roared and broke into motion, impossibly fast for sothing so massive. A beast of that size should have thundered like a living mountain, yet it moved with terrifying agility. It snapped its head forward, releasing a web of crimson lightning that tore through the incoming flas, then surged ahead with [Thunderhoof]. Each strike of its hooves detonated into localized lightning fields as it charged.
But Ira’s flas were born from the embodint of a Seven Deadly Sin.
She swung her burning sword toward the unicorn’s legs as she veered away, every beat of her draconic wings unleashing white-hot fireballs that curved through the air in pursuit. The blade itself was never ant to strike. Instead, the swing rippled outward in a wave of scorching fire that swallowed the lightning fields whole.
Ira warped above the beast, then vanished again and reappeared beneath its underbelly, driving her blade into its thick flesh. The cut barely sank an inch before Voltalis reacted. [Lightning Veil] erupted around its body, a barrier of raw electricity that burst to life the instant it was hard.
The shield absorbed the damage already dealt. The flas of the Essence of Wrath raced across the barrier and were reflected back in less than a blink, amplified fivefold as they returned to their source. Even so, the attack amounted to little more than a mosquito bite against soone as powerful as Ira.
She was not discouraged. If anything, the resistance stirred sothing close to excitent within her. Ira did not know whether she was truly allowed to feel such thrill. The fact that she could ant Tris had not forbidden it. Yet she could not tell whether that freedom was a gift, a trap, or a test.
Did it matter?
Voltalis reared back and unleashed [Tempest Roar], a thunderous cry that felt less like sound and more like a declaration of dominance. Pressure crashed through the arena in suffocating waves, heavy enough to crush weaker beings outright. Yet the sound itself passed over Ira without effect. She shrugged off the paralysis, forced the ringing from her ears, and never once broke eye contact.
The battle ignited again. Ira flew low and fast, her flaming sword carving through the air as Voltalis vanished between flashes of lightning flooding the arena. [Celestial Charge]. A teleporting assault. The unicorn disappeared within a burst of lightning and reerged with a devastating AoE strike.
Each teleport beca another pattern to unravel.
For Tris, it would have been effortless. Elentary, even, especially compared to the algorithm Remy had used during the battle within the Eagle Yew. Ira adapted quickly. By the tenth warp—after the tenth eruption of lightning she reduced to ash before it could spread—she already knew where Voltalis would appear before the beast itself did.
The instant the next flash began to form, Ira moved. She surged toward the location a breath before Voltalis erged from the lightning. Her sword swept forward, flas roaring along its edge, and the strike carved through the lightning itself.
She was fast—too fast for the attack to leave any lasting damage.
But the fact that she had been too fast sent a strange, unfamiliar jitter through Voltalis’s body. The mighty Sovereign of Storm Valley did not like what it had felt.
It roared again, and this ti its speed surged even further. Ominous energy gathered at the tip of its horn as it charged straight toward Ira. Not to impale her—no—but to et her flaming sword head-on with lightning-forged horn against blazing steel.
The clash beca a battle of elents.
Each swing carried overwhelming force, Ira’s strikes empowered by the authority of one of the Seven Deadly Sins, while Voltalis answered as the god of this mountain range. Crimson fire collided against white lightning. Flas twisted through storms of sparks potent enough to threaten even a Holy Lord.
Neither yielded an inch.
Neither yielded a centiter.
Clang! Clash! Swoosh! Fiiiish! Zaaaaap!
Voltalis reared high and drove its head downward, its horn blazing with deadly intent as Ira swung her sword upward to et it.
For a single mont, nothing happened.
Then the world exploded.
The collision unleashed a cataclysmic shockwave that hurled Ira toward the ground and sent Voltalis soaring into the sky. Ira never crashed. She was far too powerful for that. Yet she failed to realize that this had been Voltalis’s intention all along. Then again, perhaps she—the being who waged war because it fed wrath into mortal hearts—had already known this was the inevitable outco the mont their rapid clashes began.
Voltalis vanished into the storm clouds above. Not even the glow of its horn remained visible. Still, the atmosphere thickened as crackling energy saturated the air, dense with charged particles. Sothing was coming.
Ira grinned, fierce and eager, the grin of a warrior standing before worthy battle. She rolled her neck, ford a fist, and raised her flaming sword toward the heavens with the confidence of a goddess who had already seen the end and knew exactly how this fight would unfold.
Hidden beyond the clouds, Voltalis reared once more.
The world seed to stutter.
Jagged bolts of lightning erupted from the darkness overhead, violent and erratic. They twisted at impossible angles, changing direction sharper than thought itself, reversing sixteen tis within a single heartbeat. Six ca from the front. Twelve descended from above. Fourteen struck from behind. Twenty-two surged from the left. Twenty-five tore in from the right.
They hit cleanly.
Not all of them struck. But enough did. The impacts pierced through Ira’s armor, tearing open two dozen smoldering wounds. Flas leaked from the gashes instead of blood, yet when the lightning curved back for another assault, she never lost focus.
Her flaming sword split into two.
Ira moved like a dancer rather than a destroyer, every motion flowing with terrifying grace. She swayed to a rhythm Lord Springfield could not hear—a rhythm that even drew Tris’s attention as she processed sothing that was not new, yet sohow was being witnessed for the first ti.
A step. A turn. A leap.
Her blades rose and fell in perfect sequence, intercepting the jagged, homing bolts before Voltalis could redirect them from the skies above. Ira did not taunt or boast. The only emotion on her face was that grin—that smile filled with the thrill of battle she had never once shown while fighting Remy.
Then the atmosphere changed.
Voltalis was shifting tactics.
The clouds seed lighter sohow. At first, the difference was difficult to understand. Then realization struck. The clouds themselves had not changed. Voltalis had beco light. No—lightning.
Across Storm Valley, the endless storms that had raged for decades finally began to falter. Thunder faded. Lightning sputtered. The heavens dimd as every trace of electricity was drawn toward the Sovereign of the Storm Valley.
This was [Godspeed]. An install-type skill that consud surrounding lightning to amplify Voltalis’s power beyond its limits. Cloaked in divine radiance, it resembled a heavenly avenger sent to punish the sinful. It moved so quickly that the afterimages left behind attacked alongside the real body.
But speed was not its true purpose.
Voltalis was gathering sothing greater. Sothing that demanded every last spark within Storm Valley.
The mighty unicorn unleashed a prolonged roar that echoed across the now-silent valley for dozens of miles. Above, the sky split apart as though reality itself had been carved open, the fabric between heaven and earth peeling away beneath the pressure of what was forming.
This was [Divine Wrath]. Voltalis’s ultimate technique. The sa catastrophic bolt that had once split an entire mountain range in two.
Ira never looked away.
She stowed her flaming swords back into herself and transford into a dragon. Fire seeped between crimson scales as her massive head lifted toward the heavens, toward the cataclysm gathering overhead that threatened to carve a second Storm Valley into existence and reduce her to ash. A low rumble rolled from deep within her throat.
The land around her turned cold. Frost spread across the earth as every trace of heat was dragged inward, absorbed into the inferno burning beneath her scales.
Lord Springfield, still watching from nearby, considered intervening. She thought about sacrificing a clone with one of the lightning-rod stones embedded inside it to redirect the attack. She considered warping Voltalis into the depths of the ocean, where the crushing pressure would kill it instantly. She even considered teleporting the beast repeatedly—forcing it into a new position every .05 seconds until the attack collapsed entirely.
Tris could have done it. Easily.
The frawork was already in place. A parallel-processing macro prepared for activation at any mont.
Ira rose.
Not as a warrior, not as a swordswoman—but as a dragon carved from wrath itself.
The sky above convulsed as [Divine Wrath] fully ford. The heavens split open, and from that rupture ca the descending judgnt: a colossal lightning strike, vast enough to erase mountains, bright enough to turn night into a false day.
Voltalis unleashed it.
The bolt fell like the end of existence.
Then Ira answered.
She surged upward in a roar that shook the valley, wings of burning scales tearing through the air as she t the descending apocalypse head-on. Her jaws opened, and from within her throat poured a fla not born of fire—but of wrath given form.
The two forces collided midair.
Lightning scread. Fire answered.
The impact didn’t simply explode. It erased space between them, a blinding point where storm and inferno tried to define dominance over reality itself. The world bent under the pressure, trembling as though it might fracture apart.
But Ira did not stop.
Her flas pushed forward.
Slowly at first—impossibly—then with gathering inevitability, the fire began to climb the lightning itself, spiraling around the colossal bolt like a living serpent of wrath. Crimson coiled around white. Heat devoured storm. The divine strike began to lose its shape, unraveling under the pressure of sothing even more primal.
Ira rode the lightning upward, her flas twisting tighter, faster, devouring every crackle of energy as she ascended toward its source. The bolt beca less an attack and more a pillar she conquered in real ti, her inferno crawling along its length like judgnt turned back upon its maker.
And then she reached Voltalis. The flas burst outward.
Ira’s fire tore free and surged into the storm cloud itself, engulfing the Sovereign of Storm Valley in a spiraling inferno that wrapped around its body like a collapsing sun.
The heavens dimd, and the storm learned what wrath truly ant.
The fight was not over, however, as Ira’s fla hadn’t yet reached its apex. Once it had, the spiraling inferno detonated outward from Voltalis’s inflad body
The explosion of fire tore through the descending lightning and shattered [Divine Wrath] at its core. The shockwave that followed was annihilation made visible. It rippled through the storm clouds like a scouring tide, burning through layers of accumulated thunder, erasing centuries of gathered tempest in a single expanding surge of wrathful fla.
Clouds that had raged for generations were ripped apart as if they had never existed. Lightning fractured mid-form, snuffed out before it could even be born. The sky itself was forced open, cleansed by fire that refused to yield to anything above it.
The shockwave rolled across the valley in widening rings, each one hotter, brighter, and more absolute than the last. Mountains were illuminated in stark relief before the light passed over them, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.
For the first ti in centuries, Storm Valley knew no storm. No thunder rolled across its peaks. No lightning carved its skies. No rain fell from broken clouds.
The heavens remained intact, but empty—like a vast expanse that had finally been stripped of its violence.
And in that impossible quiet, Storm Valley remained bare beneath a clear night sky.
Voltalis fell, the once magnificent Lightning Unicorn King, slamd into the earth. It did not cry. It did not roar. It struggled, with all its might, to look upon that creature wearing the face of a Vredi, and that abomination of a Dragonfolk that had transford back into her humanoid form.
Voltalis’s eyes held pure, utter hatred. Even if its nerves weren’t scorched—even if it took all it had to stare through the excruciating agony to gaze upon the two heretics that had dared to kill a sovereign within its own sovereignty.
“You’re immortal if there’s a storm,” Lord Springfield said, her heeled shoes descending softly upon the bruised ground. “You’re like a phoenix. The worst version of a phoenix. Do you know why? Because a phoenix doesn’t need anything. Its death begets the flas that causes it to be reborn. You, Voltalis, rely on your lightning. Look up. There is no lightning. There will never be any lightning.”
Voltalis had been waiting for that overconfidence. Its ashy horn flickered weakly, launching one last bolt of lightning towards that elf’s heart. Lord Springfield knew it was coming. She even exposed her skin and watched as the final, pathetic strike failed to even make her tickle. Voltalis continued. Again. Again. Again. Each strike weaker than the last but filled with twice as much utter contempt.
“I’m going to take you now,” Lord Springfield said as she raised her hand. She waved her arm and launched a blanket of sli across Voltalis’s once-majestic fra. Then Lord Springfield gave the ntal signal to devour.
The sli blanket gorged itself on the massive unicorn. Eating, dissolving, and assimilating fur, hide, bone, blood, muscle, and sinew, constricting and shrinking as the mighty beast beca a late-night snack. She had taken the power for herself and denied the Storm Valley its Sovereign.
Voltalis, as the world knew it-- as Hairokei knew its God—was gone, brought to the brink of death by the Essence of Wrath under the orders of Lyudmila Vredi Springfield, a Chiric Soul Warrior who had stopped pretending and started practicing what she should have been doing from the beginning.
“Tris, I want you to register Voltalis as it was—as a ‘spirit,’ I can summon when it's a clone. Do you rember what we did with Sathtshas?”
“I do, my lord. You wish Voltalis to be a preset clone you can call upon at any mont. It shall be done. Not now, I’m afraid. Voltalis was…as Tilde would have put it, ‘a feast and a half.’ It will take so ti to properly digested and rge its strength and power while your body is also adjusting to the spent SP. Expect it to be done by morning.”
“Okay. Good. Thank you, Tris.” She turned to Ira, and Lord Springfield’s smile was genuinely gentle. “You did good,” she admitted. “More than good. I don’t have any complaints. Once you return to being inside , you’ll find your GGP. You earned every bit of it, Ira.”
*****
*****
Ira’s heart felt a flutter at Lord Springfield’s trustworthy praise as she walked through the flaming portal that returned her to her ho. She arrived at her precious flower field, the organized rows of daisies, roses, and lavender blooms providing a colorful, enchanting backdrop to the idyllic paradise she had built with her own two hands.
Ding!
The tablet that controlled this ‘world’ made a beep, and her soft, smooth hands retrieved it from a table she had outside her little log cabin. Ira sat in the comfy rocking chair and scrolled through the recent notifications, learning that her apple trees and corn stalks had been automatically harvested. The eggs from her chicken coop were harvested and ready to be sold, and the mud pit upgrade for her precious piggies had two hours left before it’d be built.
Ira continued to scroll through the alerts, stopping when she reached the final notification. “10,000 GGP,” she whispered, the sum alone doubling what she had already saved up. “The fountain… That’s more than enough. I can get that, and then I can purchase the foundation upgrades.” Ira quickly scrolled to the shop and found the fountain.
Her heart stopped.
It said it was ‘sold out.’ But how? How could it have been sold out? She was the only one here. This entire GGP program—the farm, the shop, everything here was sothing Tris had designed for her and her alone.
“Now, now,” Tris said, manifesting a glowing portal of golden light, right in the empty space in front of the cabin where Ira had planned to place the fountain. Tris took two steps to the right and snapped, and a small gust of wind fluttered her long, blond hair as those azure, intelligent eyes locked onto Ira’s complex expression. A mont later, it appeared.
The fountain.
The one with the twin dragons curling upwards around a roaring lion, not to attack, but to defend, spewing crystal clear water to the basin below as flickering embers and fickle snowflakes danced within the liquid. It was an avant-garde art piece that had directly spoken to Ira’s current foundation as the Dragonfolk guardian of chira guarded by the Lionfolk Dark Lord of Tyranny.
“This is the bonus my lord spoke about. The fountain was sold out because I purchased it on your behalf without dipping into your GGP. It is yours, Ira. You’ve earned it.” Tris beckoned Ira to approach, and she did, her eyes starting to be cloudy with tears that she didn’t want to fall, but they fell anyway. Those trembling fingers had to be encouraged to touch the cool marble—to feel the cold, pure water that would never run out. The lion’s carved body felt so much like fur, and the twin dragons’ scales—one being crimson, the other being a deep, ice-like cobalt- felt sharp and tough.
Tris watched Ira examine every last inch and waited a good, long minute before speaking. “Again, Ira. Congratulations on the excellent job. If you are up for it, I have a few more tasks for you. Bonus tasks, mind you. Nothing is mandatory. The first is this: you’ve seen my lord combine fire and lightning to produce plasma.”
“Plasma that was stable,” Ira said, her eyes still drawn to the fountain. “I can’t do anything extra. But you wish for to experint with lightning and ice?”
“I do. Perhaps you can discover a new elent. Perhaps you can find sothing ‘outside the box,’ as Tilde would say.”
“Okay. I accept. I can begin experinting. What are the other tasks?”
“My lord wishes for Voltalis to be saved as a ‘preset clone,’ to be called upon as if it were a spirit. Are you willing to partition a portion of your mana and biomass for that to happen? This task is optional, and I will not force you to accept. However, should you…” Tris snapped once more, and Voltalis appeared. Not as the twenty-foot-tall God that Ira had fought, but as a normal-sized unicorn. “You will be given a waypoint recreation of Voltalis as an animal. You have chickens. You have cows. Accept, and you will acquire a unicorn. The shop will also begin carrying a new category of lightning and storm-related costics.”
Tris observed the expression on Ira’s face before continuing. “If you want to eventually start that zoo, Ira, that I know you want to build, then a unicorn could certainly be the star exhibit.”
“The zoo… I do. I want to start one. With the GGP I have now, I can expand my land. I can create a new plot. I can reorganize to take advantage of the new space.” The improvents flooded Ira’s excited mind. “I accept, Tris. I’ll do it. Is there anything else?!”
“Yes, actually. The third option task is the sa thing, but for Sathtshas instead. Partition your mana and biomass to unlock a waypoint recreation of Aetos’s strongest guardian and a set of forest and eagle-related costics.”
Ira was nodding her head the very mont she heard ‘sa thing’ and ‘Sathtshas,’ the once fearso Essence of Wrath now content and happy to be creating her own little slice of life within her lord’s soul.
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