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... ngs—shoving sunlight in his face like the world still had something worth seeing.
He had stopped believing that a long time ago.
Zane stood at the far end of the Gutterborn line, waiting for his turn.
A long line of wretched, miserable gutterborns, as the Halocrats called them.
Zane was outside the Ironhalo Citadel, a grand slab of white marble pretending to be holy. The line was so long that he wasn’t even inside the citadel yet.
Zane took in the scenery ...
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