PREVIEW
... d into light that was too white, too quiet. Someone had jammed alarms into the walls, all flickering like nervous eyes. The air smelled of disinfectant, ozone, and burned mana. Command Row’s heart — once where the best hunters in Arcadia strutted — had turned into a field hospital pretending to be strategy central.
We followed the signs for Command Level. Jax’s limp was louder than our boots. Hana’s shawl whispered as she walked, threads pulsing faint blue each time someone screamed from ...
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