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... eing devoured into the three cocoons like thousands of black rivers forced to flow through a hole far too narrow. The scorching hell-winds no longer felt like wind; they had become a violent pull that swallowed everything they touched. The garden ground trembled, trees snapped like brittle bones, and the black-iron gazebo began to crack under the pressure of evolution.
Belial stood at the closest point, arms folded, though his black eyes narrowed sharply. The arrogant smile he usually ca ...
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