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... ngyan thought so as he staggered through the empty throne room of the Sky Palace, a sword lodged deep in his chest right where his heart should have been.
Each breath burned.
His white hair hung in tangled waves around his face, the ends soaked crimson. The long nightgown he wore dragged across the cold marble floor, gathering dust and blood with every unsteady step. His blood. All of it his.
Barefoot, he moved like a gho ...
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