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... n that felt heavier than any spoken truth. Her father exhaled, shoulders tensing slightly before he leaned forward.

"You see," he began, voice low and calm, "the Divine Beasts were once protectors. Symbols of balance. But the organization... they were created to control them."

He pulled a folded, yellowed paper from the inside of his coat and slid it across the table toward Esme. The parchment was old, the ink faded but legible. As she unfolded it, her father continued.

" ...

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