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A pulse of static rolled through the corridor, flickering out the last of its corrupted lights. The air snapped still. Reality, for all its brokenness, felt momentarily suspended—as if even the world had stopped to witness what they brought back.

Lucian's body was limp between Alexander and Dain, arms looped over their shoulders.

He was breathing. Shallow, erratic, but alive. Bruised. Burned. And empty.

Not a word had been spoken since they emerged from the rift, onl ...

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