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... assive emerald coils dragging slightly. He was panting, a cold sweat dampening his pale, sharp face.
His usually elegant robes were torn, and several deep, jagged puncture wounds marred his arms and the thick scales of his lower half. Sluggish, dark blood oozed from the bites, mixing with the foul swamp water.
The feral, infected snakes had not gone down quietly. When Vipersan had made the fatal mistake of demanding Tanith, of implying that Syris’s precious, innocent daughter sho ...
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