In the depths of the First Mirror—the cult’s holiest shrine, carved into a fallen star—the High Listener knelt before a chasm of black glass. Her voice trembled as she spoke:
“We are ready, Hollow Oracle. The world ripens. The Veil thins. Speak to us. Guide.”
The glass did not answer.
But her reflection did.
It smiled—first with Seris’s sorrow. Then with Thar’Zul’s teeth.
> “Break them,” it said. “And rebuild.”
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