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... hell was."

The words left my mouth like frost off my breath. I stood on solid stone, shirtless again, not from pride or confidence, but because the Trickster insisted I feel everything. "Control," he said, "starts with sensing the chaos. Then you choke it."

I hated when he made sense.

This year wasn't about surviving the cold anymore. This was about facing myself. Or rather... versions of me that never should've existed.

They came in wave ...

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