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Chapter 910: Battle of the sands(2)
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... d when he brushes against the divine, like a coldness, an itch,or a whisper.As if the gods were dangling a thread just close enough to see its glimmer, but always too far to grasp. Matters away from the reach of both arms and mind.
Blake had been promised a crown in exchange for burning an empire to ash.
A simple bargain, in his mind. He had imagined he would receive it the moment the deed was done, perhaps the surviving troops, drunk on victory, would hoist him upon their should ...
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