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Most
ironic
of
all
was
the
last
gift
that
Raziel
had
given
me.
More
powerful
than
the
sword
that
now
held
his
soul,
more
acute
even
than
the
vision
that
his
sacrifice
had
accorded
me.
The
first,
bitter
taste
of
that
terrible
illusion:
hope.
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