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The cathedral wasn’t built for prayer; it was built for the .
In the center of the hall stood the , a monolith of obsidian and circuitry.
Deep beneath the jagged peaks of an unnamed mountain range, the order of the gathered. They didn't wear cloth; they wore heavy, oil-slicked robes made of woven industrial carbon. Their faces were hidden behind chrome-plated visors that pulsed with a steady, rhythmic violet light.
"Initiate the sequence," the High Cantor whispered, his voice a mechanical rasp.
