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... time. The wind howled around her—violent, frenzied—as if a beast starved of flesh was tearing at the very fabric of the world. It screamed into her ears, echoing like a primal cry that only intensified with each passing second.
The knife in her grip was slick with the blood of her previous battle, the metal cold and unyielding in her palm. Reika could feel every wound, every ache as if the storm itself was feeding on her fatigue. It gnawed at her strength, tugged at her resolve, but she ...
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