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... he pressure that feels less like power and more like authority.
"…No," Hecrad whispers.
Kevom grits his teeth, forcing himself upright. "My lord…?"
Hecrad doesn't answer at first.
His lips move soundlessly, words forming from memory.
In the kingdom's earliest days… before borders were fixed… before crowns were secure…
His vision overlaps with the past.
A painted illustration in faded ink, an enormous winged beast wreathed in calamity. Citie ...
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