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Dedicated to my father,

Charles Lindquist,

who taught me how to stand.





Prologue:

Whetstones


Evil perseveres not at the hands of bad men, but at the inaction of good men.”

- The Books of Light (23 PA)


Fifty-seven years ago.

Gavriel Euvo stood at the edge of a field of withered, brittle gray grass that rippled in the freezing wind. It was always dark on Zeos; dark and dry as the inside of a coffin. The low sky churned with brown clouds that blotted out the tiny orange suns and turned the moons into invisible monsters that tugged jealously at the muddy Zeon oceans.

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