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... urned the world into something that killed people for a living. Jorik had taken it over six weeks ago, clearing out the other tenants, killing them, of course.
The walls were bare now. The furniture that hadn't been useful was pushed into a corner. What remained was a table covered in maps, a chair, and a cot that Jorik rarely used because he didn't sleep the way he used to.
He stood at the table, tracing a route on the map of Kingsgate, when the door opened without a knock.
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