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... g through the cracks in the stone walls, brushing against battle-worn banners that hung in tatters. The silence was heavy—not the eerie quiet of defeat, but the fragile stillness that comes after the storm, when every breath feels borrowed and every heartbeat is a silent vow to keep moving forward.
Verida Valthorne stood alone in her quarters, the faint scent of smoke and steel still clinging to her crimson skin. She leaned against the edge of a narrow window, golden eyes tracing the dis ...
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