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Chapter 42: A Handshake With Death
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Chapter 44: Diplomacy
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... the hot water in the large, claw-footed bathtub.
The scent of herbs and oils, a futile attempt to mask the lingering metallic tang of blood that clung to his skin, filled the air.
The battle was over, the Crimson Hand shattered, their leader now a soul slave bound to his will. Victory was his, but the taste was ashen, bitter, the whispers a mocking chorus in his ears, demanding, chanting, begging for more.
More.
He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the scaldin ...
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