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Chapter 1: Blood and Broken Crests
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Chapter 3: Whispers Of the Eclipse
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... is hands. The stench of the dead Fallen—like rotting eggs and scorched hair—clung to his soaked clothes, but it was the fresh blood pooling near his boots, warm and thick from the bartender’s slit throat, that truly turned his stomach.
Before he could speak, cold steel met his skin—a sickle, Lyria’s sickle—pressed firm against his throat.
"Move no further."
Kael froze, pulse steadying even as confusion knotted his brow.
"What’s the matter, little hawk?"
Dr ...
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