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... s.
Ashvale burned. The border town that had stood for three hundred years, where catkin and humans once traded grain and stories, now drowned in blood and ash.
Smoke coiled into the darkening sky, thick and black, carrying the stench of burning wood and flesh.
"Run! They’re coming from the east gate!"
A woman clutched her child, a small catkin boy with trembling ears flat against his head. She stumbled over cobblestones slick with blood, her bare feet leaving red ...
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