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... It brushed against his cheeks as he climbed the rocky side of a hill. Boots slipping on moss, gravel crunching beneath his feet, Marcus Ardent—eight years old—pushed himself upward, defiant and full of pride.
The sky above was a vivid, brilliant blue. Clouds floated lazily, and the scent of pine mixed with the thrill of quiet adventure. He had wandered away from his parents during a family trip. The nobles were too busy discussing politics, alliances, and land disputes. He had wanted so ...
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