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... ery seam in her cloak to whisper its chill. Lightning answered each nervous breath in muted pulses, tiny veins of silver crawling across the rune at her collarbone before guttering out. The flashes were feeble compared with the storm she normally carried, but in this tainted pocket of forest the very air seemed to drink mana, leaving only the after-taste of ozone on her tongue.

Raëdrithar padded ahead, paws impossibly silent for a creature his size. When his claws touched a knuckled root ...

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