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Yellow energy condensed around the Platinum. A massive four-fingered hand of arcane power grasped them. They rose into the sky. The distant screams of the Platinum burst out and quickly quieted into distant wails. Cutlery saw a flash of magic. The hand didn't slow.
As the yellow tinge faded everyone in the square jumped to action. Cries of anger and rage bellowed out from many healers. From what Cutlery could piece together, most were long out of power. Bandages, breathing into mouths, chest pumps, and other base ways of saving the dying were all they had left.
The Temple departed over the open sea. The yellow beams had fallen all over Zurkonia and were now bending toward the sky.
How many people had gained slivers as the Temple blessed them? Were others taken into the Temple like the Platinum? Why had he ascended? Was he a god now? Did they have to fight a god of the Temple? Or was he trapped there?
The Temple only came once every three years. That was plenty of time. A period to figure out Prodito. That was on top of how to run a city.
Then it hit her. Was this for real? Had they actually won? A loyalist eight-sliver was out there somewhere, but they were a far cry from four golds. Cutlery looked around and ran to the nearest friend who looked like death. The night rushed by. Cutlery helped carry people into abandoned wagons for hours.
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