**The Realm Beyond Life and Death**
In a place that existed between heartbeats and beyond the boundaries of mortal understanding, where time flowed like honey through crystalline chambers and space bent according to will rather than physics, Balerion—not the dragon who had carried Aegon the Conqueror, but the ancient god whose name that magnificent beast had honored—watched the unfolding drama of his chosen champion with the sort of profound satisfaction that resonated through dimensions most mortals could never perceive.
The god manifested in a form that suggested rather than displayed his true nature: tall beyond mortal measure, with skin that held the deep richness of polished obsidian and eyes that contained the patient wisdom of eternity itself. His presence filled the ethereal space with authority that was absolute yet somehow gentle, like standing in the shadow of a mountain that offered protection rather than threat. When he smiled—which he did now, observing Haerion's diplomatic success with Prince Baelon—the expression held warmth that could have melted glaciers while simultaneously carrying depths of knowledge that encompassed every death that had ever occurred and every life that had ever ended.
His voice, when it came, carried the sort of deep, measured cadence that spoke of infinite patience combined with absolute authority—the voice of someone who had witnessed the birth and death of stars while maintaining unshakeable compassion for the small struggles of mortal beings who measured their existence in heartbeats rather than eons.
"Now that," he said to the cosmic void, his words carrying harmonics that made nearby stars pulse in sympathy with his pleasure, "is exactly what I hoped to see when I offered that boy his second chance. Look at him down there—turning diplomatic negotiations into opportunities for moral education while simultaneously building alliances that could reshape the balance of power across two continents. The child has style."
He gestured with movements that existed outside normal space-time, cosmic forces swirling around his form like controlled auroras as he continued his observation of events unfolding in the mortal realm below.
"Moral conviction wedded to practical wisdom, overwhelming force applied with surgical precision, revolutionary idealism tempered by diplomatic sophistication... he has become everything the Peverell bloodline was meant to produce, and more besides. That boy is honoring both his heritage and his losses through service that exceeds anything I had the right to expect."
But even as he spoke these words of approval, Balerion's ancient consciousness detected something that made his expression shift toward darker considerations—a presence in the depths beneath Old Valyria that had been concealed from his awareness for far too long, hidden by methods that challenged even divine omniscience. The thing that had once been Malachar Peverell had grown bold in its observations of the young Dragonlord, and that boldness had finally provided the god of death with the opportunity he had been seeking for centuries.
"Hmm," he murmured, his tone taking on the sort of thoughtful consideration that suggested someone processing unwelcome but not entirely unexpected information. "Well, well. It appears we have a pest problem that needs addressing. Someone has been watching our young hero with rather more interest than I find comfortable, and hiding from my attention while doing so. That takes considerable skill... or considerable arrogance. Either way, it's time for a long-overdue conversation about appropriate boundaries and cosmic etiquette."
He paused, studying the darkness beneath the ruined Freehold with the sort of measuring assessment that suggested someone calculating the precise application of overwhelming force required to solve problems that had persisted beyond acceptable limits.
"But first," he continued with the sort of gentle warmth that had made his voice legendary among those who understood the difference between death as ending and death as transition, "a gift for someone who has honored both love and duty through service that exceeds anything reasonable. That boy deserves better than loneliness as his only companion, and I know exactly who would want to be there when he needs support most."
With movements that existed outside normal space-time, the god reached across the boundaries between life and death, between past and present, between loss and hope. His will touched a soul that rested in realms where courage and love had earned eternal peace, and he spoke with the sort of gentle authority that carried across dimensions designed to keep the living and the dead properly separated.
"Hermione Granger," he called, his voice carrying such profound respect that the very concept of mortality seemed honored by his attention. "Brightest witch of her age, friend to heroes, defender of the innocent, and quite possibly the only person in any reality who could keep Harry Potter from charging headfirst into impossible situations armed with nothing but good intentions and a remarkably optimistic assessment of his own survival prospects."
The response came as a presence rather than physical manifestation—a sense of sharp intellect combined with moral clarity that had transcended death without losing any of its essential character. Even in the afterlife, Hermione Granger radiated the same fierce intelligence and uncompromising ethical standards that had made her legendary among those who fought against darkness. But there was something more now, a depth of understanding that came from viewing existence from perspectives that transcended merely mortal concerns.
"Lord Balerion," came her voice, carrying across dimensional barriers with the sort of respectful attention that suggested someone who understood she was speaking with forces that shaped the fundamental nature of existence itself, but without the sort of breathless awe that might have characterized less intellectually grounded individuals. Her tone held that distinctive combination of curiosity and cautious analysis that had made her invaluable during their years of fighting impossible odds.
"Harry's patron, I assume? He mentioned you in his talks with Aegerax. I've been watching him, you know—from here, from the spaces between life and whatever comes after. Observing his grief, his dedication to honor my memory through service that transforms personal loss into meaning that benefits others. It's..." She paused, and her voice carried depths of emotion that transcended simple gratitude. "It's exactly what I would have expected from him, and exactly what I hoped he would find the strength to do."
Balerion smiled with genuine warmth at her immediate understanding of complex metaphysical relationships, along with her characteristic directness in addressing the heart of matters that others might approach with elaborate circumlocution.
"Indeed," he confirmed with obvious pleasure in her perceptiveness. "And you are everything he described and more—intelligence that illuminates darkness, courage that challenges evil regardless of personal cost, love that transcends the boundaries of individual mortality. You're also refreshingly direct in your communication style, which I appreciate. Too many mortals seem to think divine beings require excessive formality to understand simple concepts."
He gestured toward the mortal realm where Haerion continued his campaign of systematic social reform, his cosmic awareness following every conversation, every decision, every moment of loneliness that his chosen champion experienced despite achievements that would have satisfied lesser ambitions.
"You want to discuss Harry," Hermione observed with the sort of direct perception that had made her invaluable during their years of fighting impossible odds. "Something about his current situation has prompted divine intervention beyond the considerable assistance you've already provided. Let me guess—he's succeeding brilliantly at everything except allowing himself to be happy, and you've decided that enough is enough?"
Her tone carried that distinctive combination of analytical precision and affectionate exasperation that had characterized her interactions with Harry during their years of partnership, suggesting that death had not eliminated her ability to read his psychological patterns with uncomfortable accuracy.
"Perceptive as always," the god agreed with warm appreciation that carried undertones of someone who had spent considerable time observing mortal relationships and developing deep respect for the rare examples that transcended simple self-interest to become something approaching genuine partnership. "Yes, I wish to discuss Harry—or Haerion, as he has become in honoring his true heritage. He has succeeded beyond my most optimistic projections in reclaiming the Peverell legacy and using it to eliminate systematic evil throughout the eastern continent."
He paused, studying her response with the sort of careful attention that suggested someone evaluating complex emotional reactions to information that carried implications beyond simple intellectual curiosity.
"His achievements honor both your memory and the principles you died defending," he continued with gentle precision. "Revolutionary social transformation implemented through moral conviction backed by adequate force, systematic elimination of slavery across multiple civilizations, establishment of governance structures based on voluntary cooperation rather than systematic oppression... it's comprehensive, sophisticated, and exactly what you would expect from someone whose approach to impossible problems has always been 'charge in with good intentions and figure out the details while under fire.'"
There was a pause as Hermione processed this information, her consciousness touching the edges of divine awareness to understand the scope of what her love had accomplished during their separation. When she responded, her voice carried the sort of profound satisfaction that came from learning that personal sacrifice had contributed to achievements that served the greater good in ways that exceeded even optimistic projections.
"He's eliminating slavery throughout Essos," she said finally, the words carrying such deep contentment that the cosmic void around them seemed to resonate with sympathetic warmth. "Of course he is. Revolutionary social transformation implemented through moral conviction backed by adequate force, with careful attention to creating sustainable alternatives rather than simply destroying existing systems and hoping someone else figures out replacements."
Her tone shifted to carry that distinctive combination of pride and affectionate frustration that had marked her understanding of Harry's approach to complex problems.
"It's exactly what he would do, isn't it? Find a way to turn personal grief into meaningful service while honoring everyone who died fighting monsters. Take all that anger and loss and channel it into something constructive that benefits people who never had the option of fighting back against systematic oppression." She paused, and when she continued, her voice held depths of understanding that came from watching someone you love transform tragedy into purpose.
"But he's lonely," she added with the sort of quiet certainty that came from intimate knowledge of someone's psychological patterns and emotional needs. "Brilliantly successful at everything except allowing himself to be happy. Using service as a substitute for human connection because it feels somehow wrong to experience joy when the people he loved are gone."
"Your understanding of his character remains flawless," Balerion confirmed with genuine admiration for her ability to analyze complex emotional situations with the same systematic precision she had once applied to advanced magical theory. "Success, however comprehensive, does not eliminate the loneliness that has driven him to seek meaning in service rather than happiness in personal relationships. He honors your memory through his work, but he grieves your loss with the sort of profound sorrow that speaks of love transcending individual mortality."
The god's expression grew more serious as he prepared to address the real purpose of their conversation, cosmic forces swirling around his form as he contemplated possibilities that challenged conventional understanding while remaining consistent with deeper principles that governed the relationship between mortality and divine intervention.
"And that," he continued with the sort of careful precision that suggested someone approaching territory that required delicate handling, "brings me to why I wanted to speak with you. I'm offering you the chance to return to him, Hermione. Not as resurrection in the conventional sense, but as something more complex, more meaningful, serving purposes that extend beyond simple personal reunion while honoring the principles that made your original partnership so extraordinary."
Hermione's response was immediate and characteristically analytical, her intellect immediately beginning to work through implications that extended far beyond simple personal reunion to encompass questions of cosmic justice, natural order, and the proper relationship between individual happiness and universal law.
"Return to him," she repeated with the sort of careful consideration that suggested she was examining the proposal from multiple perspectives simultaneously. "But death is supposed to be final, isn't it? The boundary between life and death serves purposes that individual happiness cannot override, regardless of how much we might want things to be different. There have to be rules, even for gods, especially when those rules serve broader purposes than immediate emotional satisfaction."
She paused, her consciousness exploring the implications with characteristic thoroughness before continuing with the sort of direct questioning that had made her legendary for getting to the heart of complex issues.
"I assume you're not suggesting simple resurrection that would violate natural order for purely personal reasons," she said with the sort of analytical precision that cut straight to essential considerations underlying any such arrangement. "Which means you have some method that serves broader purposes while addressing Harry's emotional needs. Something that helps other people while reuniting us in a way that doesn't require divine intervention purely for individual benefit."
"Exactly right," Balerion confirmed with obvious satisfaction at her immediate grasp of the complex moral calculus underlying such divine intervention. "Normally, yes, death is final, and the boundary between life and death serves purposes that individual happiness cannot override. But you're not requesting resurrection for selfish purposes, and the method I would employ serves additional objectives that align with the natural order rather than violating it."
The god's form solidified as he prepared to explain possibilities that challenged conventional understanding while remaining consistent with deeper principles that governed the relationship between mortality and divine intervention—the sort of cosmic mechanics that required careful explanation to minds trained in analytical precision rather than simple acceptance of miraculous claims.
"In the world where Haerion now serves," he continued with the sort of careful precision that made complex metaphysical arrangements comprehensible to mortal understanding, "there is a young woman whose life follows a trajectory that will end in needless tragedy within three years. Princess Gael Targaryen—sixteen, brilliant, bookish, possessed of moral instincts that align perfectly with your own ethical framework but lacking the knowledge and experience that would allow her to avoid the trap that will destroy her."
He gestured with movements that existed outside normal space-time, cosmic forces coalescing into images that showed a girl whose scholarly interests and intellectual capabilities bore striking resemblances to Hermione's own character while remaining distinctively her own person.
"Heartbreak, forced termination of pregnancy, and ultimately suicide driven by shame and despair," he continued with distaste that made the cosmic void around them seem colder. "All of it preventable through intervention that serves multiple beneficial purposes while honoring both your desire to help Harry and the natural requirement that divine intervention serve purposes beyond simple personal preference."
"Intervention meaning what, exactly?" Hermione asked with the sort of sharp analytical thinking that cut straight to essential moral considerations underlying any such arrangement. "I assume you're not talking about simple possession or replacement, because that would be horrific for everyone involved. If you're suggesting some form of consciousness merger..."
She paused, her brilliant mind clearly working through implications with the sort of systematic thoroughness that had made her legendary for solving impossible problems through careful analysis of available information and creative application of theoretical principles.
"You're talking about synthesis," she said finally, understanding dawning with the sort of intellectual satisfaction that came from solving complex puzzles through logical analysis rather than intuitive leaps. "Not replacing her consciousness with mine, but creating something new that incorporates both sets of experiences, memories, and emotional frameworks into a coherent personality that honors what we both were while becoming something that neither of us could achieve independently."
"Precisely," Balerion confirmed with obvious pleasure at her immediate understanding of complex metaphysical arrangements that most minds would have struggled to comprehend even with extensive explanation. "Princess Gael Targaryen possesses legitimate place in that world, royal connections that could prove valuable for Harry's broader campaign, and intellectual capabilities that align with your own scholarly interests. But she lacks the knowledge and experience that would allow her to recognize and avoid the personal disaster that will destroy her within three years."
He paused, studying her response with the sort of careful attention that suggested someone evaluating complex emotional reactions to proposals that challenged fundamental assumptions about identity, continuity, and the relationship between individual consciousness and cosmic justice.
"Your consciousness merged with hers would create someone who possesses her legitimate place in that world while retaining your wisdom, your knowledge, your understanding of what Harry needs in a partner," he continued with gentle precision. "Someone who could prevent her tragedy while providing him with the emotional support and intellectual partnership that his current campaign requires for long-term success."
"What sort of trap?" Hermione asked with the sort of protective instincts that suggested her moral convictions had transcended death without losing any of their practical application. Her tone carried that distinctive combination of academic curiosity and righteous anger that had once driven her to research the most obscure legal precedents to free enslaved house-elves.
"Someone unworthy of her trust, I assume? Someone who will take advantage of her inexperience and emotional vulnerability for personal gratification without regard for consequences that could destroy her entire future?"
"A traveling bard," Balerion replied with distaste that made the cosmic void around them seem positively frigid, his usual warmth replaced by something approaching cosmic contempt for mortals whose cruelty transcended simple selfishness to become something approaching artistic vandalism, "with a talent for seduction and a complete absence of moral responsibility. Someone who views innocent young women as objects for his personal gratification rather than human beings deserving of respect and honest treatment."
The god's expression grew darker as he continued, cosmic forces beginning to swirl around his form in patterns that suggested someone whose patience with certain forms of evil had reached absolute limits.
"He will romance her with lies about eternal love and artistic inspiration, convince her to surrender her virtue through promises he has no intention of keeping, then abandon her when she becomes inconvenient to his career ambitions. Classic predatory behavior—identify vulnerable targets, exploit their emotional needs through deliberate deception, discard them when they become sources of responsibility rather than simple entertainment."
"And the pregnancy?" Hermione's voice carried the sort of controlled fury that had once made her punch Draco Malfoy for his casual cruelty, though now it was tempered by the sort of cosmic perspective that came from viewing such patterns across multiple realities and understanding their broader implications for human suffering.
"Will force her father to give her moon tea," Balerion confirmed with grim precision, his voice carrying undertones that suggested personal distaste for methods that violated every principle of compassionate medical care. "A substance that terminates pregnancies through methods that would horrify modern medical practitioners—essentially magical abortion implemented through techniques designed more for veterinary applications than human healthcare, with significant risks of permanent damage or death from complications."
He paused, allowing her to process the full horror of what was being described before continuing with the sort of matter-of-fact precision that made tragic outcomes sound like inevitable consequences of systematic failures in moral education and social protection.
"The combination of betrayal, loss, and shame will drive her to self-destruction," he concluded with profound sadness that seemed to resonate through every dimension simultaneously. "A brilliant young woman whose only crime was trusting someone who didn't deserve her faith, destroyed by cruelty that serves no purpose beyond satisfying one man's selfish appetites at the expense of everyone else's wellbeing."
The silence that followed this explanation carried the sort of profound sadness that came from witnessing preventable tragedies that destroyed innocent lives through the cruel selfishness of people who viewed others as objects for their personal gratification rather than human beings deserving of respect and consideration.
"She dies because she loved someone who wasn't worthy of her trust," Hermione said finally, her voice carrying the sort of controlled fury that suggested someone whose sense of justice had been offended on multiple levels simultaneously. "Someone who took advantage of her inexperience and emotional vulnerability for personal gratification without regard for consequences that could destroy her entire future. And you're offering me the chance to prevent that tragedy while reuniting me with Harry in a form that would allow us to build something meaningful together."
"Yes," Balerion confirmed with simple certainty, though his tone carried undertones that suggested the complexity of what was being proposed extended far beyond simple prevention of individual tragedy. "Though I should be clear that the synthesis would create someone who is both you and her—not simply your consciousness in her body, but a genuine fusion that honors both sets of experiences while creating something new that serves the needs of everyone involved."
He gestured toward the mortal realm where Haerion continued his campaign of systematic social reform, cosmic awareness following every decision, every moment of loneliness that his chosen champion experienced despite achievements that would have satisfied lesser ambitions.
"Someone who understands both loss and duty, both the costs of fighting evil and the rewards of building something better," he continued with growing warmth. "Someone who shares his commitment to justice while possessing the intellectual capabilities necessary for meaningful partnership with someone whose achievements already exceed most historical legends."
"Including Harry's need for someone who understands both his grief and his current mission," Hermione observed with the sort of perception that had made her invaluable during their years of fighting impossible odds together. Her tone carried that distinctive combination of analytical precision and deep emotional understanding that had made her legendary for seeing connections that others missed.
"Someone who won't try to convince him to abandon his campaign for the sake of personal happiness, but who can provide emotional support and intellectual partnership that makes the work sustainable rather than simply another form of self-punishment disguised as service," she continued with growing understanding of the complex psychological dynamics underlying such divine intervention.
"Indeed," the god agreed with obvious satisfaction at her understanding of the complex motivations underlying such arrangements. "Someone who shares his commitment to justice, understands the costs of fighting evil, and possesses the intellectual capabilities necessary for meaningful partnership with someone whose achievements already exceed most historical legends while remaining grounded in principles that honor both individual human dignity and broader social good."
Hermione was quiet for a long moment, her consciousness exploring possibilities and implications with the sort of systematic thoroughness that had made her legendary for solving impossible problems through careful analysis of available information and creative application of theoretical principles. When she spoke again, her voice carried the sort of decisive certainty that had once convinced her to modify her parents' memories rather than risk their safety during wartime.
"I accept," she said finally with resolution that transcended simple agreement to become something approaching cosmic commitment to purposes that served justice as surely as they honored love that had transcended the boundaries between life and death. "If my return can save an innocent girl from needless tragedy while giving Harry the partnership he needs to continue his work, then individual considerations about the natural order of life and death become irrelevant compared to the broader good that could be achieved."
She paused, her consciousness touching the edges of divine awareness as she processed implications that extended far beyond simple personal reunion to encompass questions of identity, purpose, and the relationship between individual happiness and universal service.
"Besides," she added with the sort of wry humor that had once made her legendary for maintaining perspective during impossible situations, "someone needs to keep Harry from charging headfirst into impossible situations armed with nothing but good intentions and a dangerous amount of confidence in his ability to improvise solutions to problems that should require careful planning and adequate backup resources."
"I was hoping you would reach that conclusion," Balerion said with profound satisfaction as he began gathering the cosmic forces necessary to implement arrangements that would serve justice while honoring love that had transcended the boundaries between life and death. "Though I should warn you that the process will take time to complete properly. Consciousness synthesis requires delicate handling to ensure that both personalities are honored rather than one simply overwhelming the other."
But as the god of death prepared to facilitate reunion between souls that had been separated by evil that destroyed love for its own amusement, his attention was caught by something that made him pause in recognition of complications that required immediate attention before other objectives could be safely pursued.
Deep beneath Old Valyria, concealed in crystalline chambers that existed partially outside normal reality, the thing that had once been Malachar Peverell was stirring with the sort of malevolent anticipation that suggested immediate threats to everything Balerion was attempting to accomplish through careful guidance of moral champions. The ancient predator had been observing Haerion's activities with growing interest, and his attention was beginning to focus in ways that could prove catastrophic for everyone involved if left unchecked.
"Ah," Balerion said with the sort of resigned recognition that came from detecting problems that had been building for far too long without adequate attention, his tone shifting from warm satisfaction to something approaching cosmic irritation at inconveniently timed complications. "Well, this is awkward timing. It appears we have a rather significant pest problem that needs addressing before I can safely facilitate your return."
He gestured toward the darkness beneath the ruined Freehold with movements that caused reality to bend in ways that revealed hidden spaces and concealed threats, cosmic awareness penetrating defenses that had been refined across centuries of careful evolution.
"Someone whose corruption has hidden him from my awareness for far too long," he continued with growing distaste as the full scope of what lurked in those depths became clear to divine perception that saw past all concealment to essential truth, "and whose continued existence poses threats to everyone we're trying to help. Someone who has been watching our young hero with rather more interest than I find acceptable, planning interventions that would transform beneficial guidance into something far more sinister."
"One of Harry's relatives?" Hermione asked with the sort of sharp perception that immediately identified family dynamics as potential sources of complications in any situation involving ancient magical bloodlines and systematic moral corruption. "Someone from the Peverell line who chose different approaches to the pursuit of power and knowledge?"
"Malachar Peverell," Balerion confirmed with grim precision, his voice carrying undertones of someone who had been tracking a particularly elusive and dangerous prey across multiple dimensions and considerable spans of time. "The black sheep of Harry's illustrious family tree, someone who spent centuries perverting the noble art of magical research into abominations that would make demons reconsider their career choices."
His expression grew darker as cosmic awareness catalogued the full scope of systematic evil that had been pursued in the name of expanding knowledge and transcending mortal limitations through methods that violated every principle of ethical research.
"He consumed his own humanity piece by piece, not in pursuit of knowledge or understanding, but simply because conventional moral boundaries seemed like challenges to be overcome rather than safeguards designed to preserve what makes existence meaningful," he continued with growing contempt for choices that had systematically destroyed everything valuable about intellectual curiosity in favor of appetites that had grown beyond any reasonable limitation.
"And now he's taking an interest in Harry's activities," Hermione said with the sort of protective instincts that had once driven her to research the most obscure legal precedents to protect people she cared about from systematic injustice. "Which means immediate intervention to prevent whatever corruption he's planning to introduce into Harry's campaign of social reform."
"Exactly," Balerion confirmed with satisfaction at her immediate understanding of strategic priorities that required immediate action rather than careful deliberation about optimal timing. "Though I should mention that eliminating someone who has spent a millennium perfecting concealment techniques will require my full attention for a period that could prove... dramatically visible to anyone with enhanced magical perception."
He paused, studying her response with the sort of careful attention that suggested someone evaluating how much explanation would be required to ensure informed consent for arrangements that might prove more complex than simple divine intervention typically required.
"Forgive the delay," he said with the sort of apologetic courtesy that suggested even gods occasionally encountered scheduling conflicts that required immediate attention to prevent disaster, "but it appears I need to conduct some long-overdue pest control before I can safely facilitate your return. Someone whose corruption has hidden him from my awareness for far too long, and whose continued existence poses threats to everyone we're trying to help."
"Go," Hermione said with the sort of decisive certainty that had once made her legendary for making difficult decisions that served the greater good regardless of personal preferences or emotional considerations. "Handle your pest problem with whatever thoroughness the situation requires. I'll wait here and use the time to prepare mentally for consciousness synthesis that honors both Gael's identity and my own experiences."
She paused, her consciousness touching the edges of divine awareness as she processed implications of what was about to unfold in the depths beneath Old Valyria.
"Just... try not to cause collateral damage that could affect innocent people," she added with the sort of gentle concern that had once made her legendary for considering broader implications of necessary actions. "I know Harry would never forgive himself if people got hurt because of divine intervention undertaken on his behalf, regardless of how necessary that intervention might be for protecting him from threats he doesn't even know exist."
"Your concern for others remains as admirable as ever," Balerion replied with warm appreciation for moral instincts that had transcended death without losing any of their practical application to complex situations requiring careful balance between necessary action and protection of innocent parties.
With movements that transcended normal space-time, the god of death turned his attention toward the ruins of Old Valyria and the thing that lurked in their depths like a cancer that had metastasized beyond normal methods of treatment. The confrontation that followed would either eliminate an ancient evil or provide that evil with opportunities to corrupt everything they had worked to achieve.
But first, Malachar Peverell would learn why hiding from Death was ultimately futile when Death decided that certain corruptions had outlived any possible justification for their continued existence.
"This will not take long," he said with the sort of quiet certainty that brooked no possibility of failure or delay, cosmic forces gathering around his divine form like storm clouds pregnant with controlled lightning. "But it will require thoroughness that ensures the problem is solved permanently rather than simply postponed until a more inconvenient moment."
The hunt for Malachar Peverell was about to begin in earnest, and with it, the final cleansing that would clear the way for love to triumph over the sort of evil that destroyed beauty simply because it could.
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