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TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-SEVEN: To Belong
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TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-NINE: Snow I
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... gle Bells” played by the twitch of his fingers against air. One smashed marshmallow. A pillow tumbling into more pillows after being pummeled by an invisible, square-shaped punch. The memory of the light that had once filled this room becoming real light that shone on a blade-shaped leaf—still green after all these days.
Alden held the spell, striving for another ten seconds while the feeling of resistance grew. If the first spells he’d cast had been like diving into water and feeling it ...
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