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... know, a ghost who had lost his substance, his very existence no more than a whisper.
The rules of time and space did not apply to him.
All he saw, all he felt, were moments that flowed by like scenes behind a curtain.
And at the center of these moments, he was always there: a boy with hair as black as midnight and eyes like shattered fragments of the sky.
Cassian did not know who this boy was or why he was watching him, but the memories unfolded before his eyes. ...
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