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Chapter 113 - 112: The Philosophy of Art
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... ore him — circled the easel with quiet reverence, like a priest preparing for a sacred rite. His robes moved like smoke, his steps measured, timeless.
Then, a voice. Deep, steady, ancient — but not aged. It rang within the chamber, and within Rex’s chest.
"Let us begin from the very beginning.
You will begin with what mortals call ’the basics’ — but here, there is no such thing as basic.
Each stroke you learn is a seed. Ea ...
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