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... a nervous tension, the kind you feel in muscles just before striking. Like a drawn bow. Like a storm still holding back its cry.

Elisa nodded slowly. Her eyes shone with a new glint, not the reassuring kind. Something deeper, older. A fire beneath the ice. A silent acceptance of what they were becoming—or what they had always been.

They set off again, without a single word exchanged, their steps devoured the damp earth, cleaving the mist like a blade. The moor closed behind them, ...

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