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Chapter 6: The Taste of Corruption
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Chapter 8: The Sins of the Father
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... p> It was broken only by the soft, wet drip of black ichor from Michael’s fingertips.
DRIP.
DRIP.
The remaining Tunnel Skitterers, dozens of them, were frozen in place, their multiple red eyes wide with a primal, instinctual terror.
He could feel it washing over him in waves.
He wasn’t prey anymore.
He was something far, far worse.
He looked down at his hands, which were perfectly steady.
He felt no fear.
The searing pain fr ...
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