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We're witnessing the fragments of humanity scatter across time. Each moment lost, each memory fading. But within ourselves lies the power to rebuild, to preserve what matters. Start with your own story, then expand outward.

Good evening, I'm reading from "The Patient's Tale." Have you examined the girl, Doctor Bennett? Yes, most peculiar case. She's been experiencing visions since March, claims to see angels. The family physician found nothing wrong physically, yet her symptoms persist. Most curious indeed.

Long after the shattering, the world remains broken and the tarnished souls return to claim what was lost. From the depths of the underworld to the highest peaks, the fire of ambition burns bright while the old gods remain silent within their crumbling tombs.

My dear readers, whispers of intrigue echo through the halls of society once again. A masked ball approaches on the evening of the 30th, where identities shall blur and secrets shall surface. Do attend, for I shall be watching, as always. Yours truly, Lady Whistledown.

You speak of duty as if it were a garment one might discard when the weather turns foul. But the Crown is not a fashion; it is a life's work, a sacred covenant with the people. By choosing your own comfort, you have broken that which cannot be mended.

The coffee mug crashed against the wall, brown liquid streaming down like tears. "You think you can speak to me that way?" Mother's voice trembled with rage. My daughter cowered behind me, while my husband just stood there, smirking at the familiar scene.

The shadows whisper truths that daylight dare not speak, my Lord. We walk between moments, serving those who cannot know our purpose. Tomorrow's light may judge us, but tonight's work cannot wait. Isn't that our burden to bear?

Look at you, pretending to be strong when we both know you're weak inside. Every step you take away from me just brings you closer. You can't fight what you are - a submissive little puppet dancing on my strings.