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... long shadows across the worn stone roads and the freshly painted customs house walls.

Azenet stood on the balcony overlooking the harbor, the salty breeze teasing the edges of her linen shawl.

She was alone.

But in her heart, Khisa was always there.

She remembered the first time she saw him, dusted in red clay, his hair wild, his voice softer than what her father told her. She expected someone a bit older and a seasoned general.

He spoke neither like a con ...

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why should I become stronger? to beat this and compete with that..?

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