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... The sound tore through Miles’ mind like a razor, jagged and raw. He wanted to look away, but his body refused to move. His fingers gripped the scythe’s handle, blood still dripping from its blade. Kurt’s blood.
His stomach lurched violently.
Kurt clutched his severed arm, staggering backward, his silver eye blazing with pain and disbelief. His mouth moved, forming words Miles could not hear. The world around them twisted, the edges blurring like ink bleeding into water.
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