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A Generational Story

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"Ah, my darling, but deaths are not what I wish you to take; I sculpt with souls, not lives, and you have witnessed full well that a body and mind can continue without such unearned splendor as a soul," the white lady said.

"Yes, mother," Irrylath agreed, and shifted in her lap to give her stroking fingers, dry and cold as the winterock of her castle, better access under his tunic.

"You will be great and grand and bring all Avaric to its knees soon enough, my darling," the white lady said, "and then, when you have brought me twice seven souls from twice seven brides -- why, then, I shall love you as well as my own mother loved me."