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Chapter Ninety-Five: Wings of Rebellion
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... ered to imagine the answer as I stared at the towering mountain of flesh and feathers Sugey had become. Over sixty feet of hatred now glared down on me with baleful eyes the size of houses. The Nightlord’s mace had become little more than a toothpick sliding through her fingers; her hands could crush me within their palms and her feet flatten me into the ground. Her wingspan blanketed the forest in darkness, blotting out what little light managed to pierce through the clouds shrouding the heaven ...
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