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... the grief was a gaping wound in her heart. Every beat, every pulse, only served to deepen her anguish and fuel her fury.

And then there was Mira, the black dragon who had dared to engage her, keeping her busy while her legion was massacred.

Tweety's feathers bristled at the thought, her talons scraping against each other as if itching to rip into something, anything. Her voice, usually melodious, was now filled with a cacophonous rage that echoed throughout the forest.

[E ...

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