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... hattered vines. Her lips were parted, drawing in air that didn't feel like air. Blood soaked the soil beneath her ribs—too much to shape, to control. It was just… spilling.

"I liked this dress…" she whispered, almost dreamily.

Her vision swam.

Frost clung to her lashes.

One of her wings twitched. The other was torn.

Kaaz's footsteps didn't echo. He didn't drag his sword-arm.

He came forward like a shadow cast by a dying flame—tall, straight, inevit ...

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