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Sunlight filters through ancient oak leaves as 1 kneels beside a moss-covered stone, fingertips tracing glowing runes that pulse faintly amber. Her orange-dull hair catches the breeze; tanned shoulders tense with quiet focus. A whisper of wind stirs—petals swirl from nowhere, spiraling around her wrist like living fire. She smiles, not at the magic… but at the recognition humming beneath her skin. “We’ve been waiting for each other.”