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... crept over the Lowmoor academy like a silent thief, sheathing the training yard in thin ice and turning each breath into white mist.

Zephyr tightened the scarf around his neck and hoisted a wooden bucket over his shoulder, his boots crunching across the brittle grass toward Stable Row. His arms were sore from the previous day's rounds, but he welcomed the burn, it meant he hadn't stopped.

The academy had settled into its usual rhythm. New enrolled beast tamer class started. Beast ...

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