Cathy McCullough

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Nothing in the third reach compared to this simple joy in life. He had thought that the scholars and warriors of the seminary had preserved the mores and traditions of old Vasyllia. But there, everything was formalistic, strict, conventional to a fault. Repeated movements without inner content. Everything in the potter’s world was replete with significance.
The Song of the Sirin (Raven Son, #1)
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