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... of the void and darkness moved with breathless rhythm.

It was a place where light had no hold, only fragments of eerie illumination dancing off obsidian edges.

There, draped across the arm of a vast, towering throne of polished black stone, lay the fair-skinned figure of Selamira. Her body bare, skin flushed, still shimmering faintly with a sheen of fading heat. She rested her cheek upon the lap of a man, her breath slowing as the embers of ecstasy cooled.

She looked up, ...

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