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... vacuum, sucking the air from Alex’s lungs, pulling the certainty from beneath his feet. He stood motionless on the wooden stage, the architect of a new Rome, and felt the foundation of his argument dissolving into sand. The cheers of his legionaries, so loud and confident moments ago, had died in their throats, replaced by a confused and troubled quiet. He could see it in their eyes—the flicker of doubt. He could see it in the faces of the refugees—the dawning ember of a terrible hope.

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