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... at no ordinary flower could match.

Athos sat back in his chair, his cup resting beside a half-unrolled scroll, while Argolaith stood by the arched window, watching the morning sunlight break over the rooftops of Seminah.

Kaelred had wandered off somewhere between the second cup and a comment about "books not biting back." Malakar lingered near the entrance, flipping through a tome bound in shadow-threaded vellum, silent and watchful as always.

Thae'Zirak had curled up on ...

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