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... was a fragile peace against the memory of the rift’s oppressive silence. Yomi sat with his companions at a sturdy oak table, the air thick with the scent of stew and stale ale. Kira, a small shadow nestled at his side, ate with a quiet desperation, her instincts still coiled tight. Across from him, Aeloria and Lirien moved their food around their plates, the tension of their ordeal a palpable presence between them.

Yomi set down his spoon. "Lirien," he began, his voice cutting through th ...

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