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... p> The silence that followed was a vacuum.
The battlefield—if it could even be called that anymore—was a ruin of broken stone, scorched earth, and golden blood soaking into the very bones of Tartarus.
Ares lay motionless.
Not dead—gods didn’t die so easily—but he was as close to death as a deity could be without crossing the threshold.
His body was wrecked. Absolutely, irreversibly shattered.
His left arm was missing from the elbow down, severed clean in t ...
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~ postscript
