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The people had always gathered on moonless nights to hear the stories, since the time of their ancestors' ancestors. The heat of the fire and the glow in the storyteller's eyes made the past present, and the path to the future clear. The power in the telling was immense, subtle, divine. What man would dare subvert it?
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Contemplative, prestige, nostalgic and cryptic.
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“Is the nostalgia doing the heavy lifting?”
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“Is Whom the Telling Changed too earnest?”
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“Is this Aaron A. Reed's best work?”
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