There are vibrations in the city's pattern of a kind I do not recognise. The great principle of survival of the strongest, the urge to destroy, to be victorious. It is nothing of Atziluth, or of Sheol, but relentless and unmerciful. Something deep, and ancient and terrible. Something as old as I
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I can but hope.
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Suffering feeds the city, Sara Mudou. And so may indifference.
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