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... ich usually meant things were already bad.
"Cinders, gather flame threads from every open hearth. Seal the perimeter ones last."
She nodded once and vanished across the courtyard, shouting in clipped bursts. I heard Relay cursing before I saw him—already halfway into the village’s half-broken relay shrine, elbow-deep in cracked mosscrete.
Thirteen minutes wasn’t a lot.
And the fire didn’t wait.
The first flicker came at the eleven-minute mark. Nothing dram ...
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