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... air was thick with smoke and old blood, the scent of burnt ash clinging to every breath. Henry paced like a wolf without a leash, while Owen sat near the edge of the obsidian platform, eyes fixed on the roiling storm far beyond the cliffs. And me?
I leaned against a fractured pillar, arms crossed, pretending like the silence didn't feel like a prelude to war.
But inside, my mind wasn't here.
It was still with her.
With Roselle.
The way she looked when she ...
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