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... Towers of broken machines leaned at odd angles, their twisted frames glinting under the weak light.
The air reeked of oil, ash, and something sourer, like decay that refused to fade.
The moment they set foot inside, a low growl rippled through the piles of junk. Yellow eyes blinked in the shadows, dozens—no, hundreds—of them.
Shapes slithered between heaps of scrap, claws scraping against steel, wings rustling like dry paper.
Jamie drew in a sharp breath, her usua ...
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