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... t outline to stitched shadow in a breath.

Sylvanna watched him vanish, shoulders sagging with reluctant respect. A moment later she jogged downslope, keeping low. Each step stirred memories of other ruined strongholds, other nights Draven had turned despair into a scalpel. Stay alive, she prayed—or maybe it was a command—then slipped through a breach in the palisade to find the elves.

Up on the wall Harken lifted a lantern, sweeping its beam across the gatehouse. Embers glimmered ...

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