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... sh cutting through the mist-wrapped trees.
Liam stood at the hollow's edge, boots sinking into cold, wet earth, cloak stiff with dew. His breath fogged sharp, chest tight. His sword hung heavy at his hip, still flecked with blood, its grip worn smooth under his palm. The camp stirred with soldiers grunting, survivors muttering—but a rider burst through, horse lathered, shattering the quiet.
"Drenvar has been hit—scout report, fresh!" the man barked. His armor dented, face soot-st ...
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