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The Mortal Question
They came at dawn, carrying white flags.
Not surrender flags—negotiation banners. The universal signal that what followed should be discussion rather than violence. Maya watched them approach the hidden shelter through surveillance wards, counting heads and assessing threat level.
Twelve humans. No visible weapons. No essence signatures suggesting Baptism or transformation. Just mortals who'd somehow tracked the resistance's location and decided conversation was worth the risk of ...
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