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... es, cratered soil, and the bones of things that used to roar.
Rein stepped carefully around a set of massive claw marks etched into a stone, still steaming.
Wind, dry and bitter, scraped across the jagged plains and kicked up ash that clung to his hair, his throat, his tongue.
The sky overhead was a sickly red-gray, never quite dusk, never quite dawn. No stars. No sun. Just a constant, dull glow—like the world itself was quietly smoldering.
Rein stumbled over a ri ...
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