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A bluebird dives, its prize not a fish from the stream, but the glint of a blade. It rises with a touch of gre…

A bluebird dives, its prize not a fish from the stream, but the glint of a blade. It rises with a touch of green on its tip, a promise of the storm that begins with the softest whisper of wind.

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A bluebird dives, its prize not a fish from the stream, but the glint of a blade. It rises… | Where Winds Meet Database