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... p> Zykra didn’t speak. She only nodded once, slow and heavy, her gaze anchored on Lyra.

Roachaline’s presence pressed sharper across the room. Her knife gleamed at her side, and the weight of her coercion bled into the space between them — not fully unleashed, but enough to turn the armory’s stale air thin and brittle.

"Show your shard’s heart," she said, voice hardening.

No patience left. No shelter for hesitation.

The accusation was clear beneath the words —

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