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... strong>******

A young woman gripped the rusted scythe tighter, her palms slick with sweat despite the cold night air seeping through the cracks in the wooden walls.

She was maybe twenty-two, with dark brown hair pulled back in a practical braid that had started to come loose hours ago.

Her face was sun-bronzed from years working the fields, with high cheekbones and honey-brown eyes that were currently locked on the closed door with absolute, unwavering focus. She ...

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