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Purpose was the gift of imperfection. The divine world was perfect, flawlessly ordered, but in a perfect world there was no purpose, no reason to learn, to work, to grow. There might be debts owed in an imperfect world, but they could be paid. An imperfect world was a work in progress. An imperfect world could be changed.
She could change it, if she was brave.
-Traitor Son