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... as still clad in her battle robes—if one could call them that. The fabric was torn in places, scorched along the edges from lightning strikes and fire, and dirt smeared across the hems. Her black hair had slipped loose from its ties, strands falling across her cheeks, her eyes wide and bright even in the dim lamplight of the hall.

"Seraphine?" Edward asked, confusion threading his tone.

"Hii," she said, a little too lightly for the hour, and stepped into his room without waiting ...

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