PREVIEW
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The hotel room is dim, the curtains drawn tight against the night outside. Only one lamp burns in the corner, its amber glow soft and diffuse, casting long shadows that pool in the corners like water gathering in hollows. The air is still, heavy, thick with something that hadn’t existed an hour ago.
Zyren lies on the couch. His body is limp, his head tilted back against the cushion, his throat exposed. His silver hair is dark with sweat, clinging to his temples, his forehead, ...
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