PREVIEW
... hey fluttered wildly in the fresh, playful wind, as if the sky itself had decided to celebrate their return. Lyan rode at the front of the procession, his cloak trailing behind him like a second banner, its edges tugged and flared by the breeze, the silver sigil stamped on his back flashing with each sway of his horse’s stride. Beneath him, his steed’s steady gait hummed through the leather reins, the familiar rise and fall of each step grounding him in a rhythm he had marched to for years. Yet ...
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