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... ainst the marble floor, painting streaks beneath Velis’s knees. Her chest heaved, breaths shallow and ragged, the sharp sting of her wounds threatening to drag her under. Her reflection’s blade hovered an inch from her throat, the steel vibrating with hunger, almost eager to pierce her skin.

The mirrored warrior moved with chilling elegance—each flick of the wrist a perfect echo of Velis’s past triumphs, but polished, sharpened, made cruel. Even the tilt of her head was deliberate, like ...

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