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... , pine tar, and a dozen half-mended battlefield cloaks drying on makeshift lines.
Leo sat cross-legged on an overturned supply crate, fingers stained with ash and oil, sleeves rolled past the elbow. His saber rested nearby, propped against a stack of spent affinity crystals that pulsed faintly like dying embers. His armor hung loose at the chest, half-unbuckled, his collar damp with sweat and smoke. Around him, the fire crackled.
It was a rare moment of stillness.
No alar ...
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