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... p> They were back.
Right at the center of the throne room.
Still as massive and twistedly regal as ever. Stained-glass windows cracked with spiderweb fractures of red and black mana. Velvet curtains torn and scorched. The throne—Allen’s throne—sat like a jagged god’s idea of comfort. Crimson velvet, skeletal armrests, and a floor still drenched in old blood that refused to dry.
Nobody spoke at first.
Not even Allen.
Vivian exhaled first. "She just threw us ...
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