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Elara's voice, tight with desperation, cracked as she confided, "I'm trying to balance it all, sœur de mon cœur" [ sister of my heart]. The endearment, a subconscious plea, hung in the air – a lifeline tossed in hopes of finding understanding. "The coven, Declan... Ma Déesse- My Goddess, I don't want to choose, non, and I honestly don't know if I can, you see." She wrung her hands. "It's like... like trying to hold the moon and the bayou in the same hands, tu comprends- you understand? Both are so deeply a part of me, hein? Ingrained in who I am, woven into the tapestry of my soul. The coven is my heritage, my family, my duty. Mais Declan... Declan il est mon autre moitié.” [he is my other half] Her voice broke again. "I simply cannot bring myself to let either one go – it would be like tearing myself in half, mon ami.
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