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Chapter 7: Mask of Memories.
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Chapter 9: Death Hour?
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... s movements deliberate, as though even in frailty he commanded the room. His crimson eyes glimmered with a cold amusement, though his face betrayed none of his thoughts. His hand brushed against his chin, his smirk concealed in the shadows of the dim light.
"Ah, Miral. How fate delights in its little ironies."
His mind turned inward, the words a silent monologue meant only for the shade of the man long gone.
"Look upon your daughter, Miral. Such beauty, such fire, so like ...
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