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Chapter 49 — The Shadow That Moves
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Chapter 51 — The Folded Path of the Initiate
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... the ruined watch-hut, the cold northern wind cutting across the yard like a serrated blade. Night had fallen fully now, yet the air still smelled faintly of blood, burnt resin, and the sweet, metallic tang of ruptured crystal cores.
He stared at his hands.
Not because of the dried blood caked beneath the fingernails.
Not because they were trembling.
But because of what they held—what he had taken.
Two crystal cores from Larkin’s corpse lay in his palm, on ...
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