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... ul hand come down on his shoulder.

- You. Move.

The tone was dry, without appeal.

One of the guards beckoned him forward, and despite the chaos in his mind, his body obeyed before he could think.

He moved forward.

His footsteps echoed faintly on the rough stone floor, each sound seeming louder in the deathly silence that hung over the slaves still present.

The girl... was gone.

She was really gone.

Mordred wanted to turn around, to ...

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