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... to the eight black-framed glass windows, halting at the third, where a whip-like heather branch swayed in the wind, rhythmically tapping against the pane.
Duke Kolonfer extended his right hand, passing it directly through the glass, and seized the heather branch. As he murmured to himself, the branch visibly withered at an observable rate, crumbling into heaps of decayed ash and dust.
The touch of Duke Kolonfer held the power of withering; should it ever come to an actual fight, ...
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