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... nothing restful in his posture. His arm while covering his face betrayed nothing of the way his jaw clenched, his shoulders rigid, his breath sharp as though it had nowhere to go but back into his chest.

Dead.

The word gnawed at him mercilessly until he thought it might drive him mad.

Dead. Dead. Dead!

Five years of waiting. Five years of following whispers, chasing scraps of hope through shadows and silence. And at last, when the veil had nearly lifted, when the ...

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