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... White-lit eyes adjusted—not scanning in pulses, but narrowing in fine increments, as though tuning perception across unseen spectrums.

Kael rose slowly, wiping blood from his mouth.

“Don’t attack,” Mara whispered urgently.

Lyra didn’t lower her blades—but she didn’t strike again either.

The Walker extended one hand, palm outward.

The air compressed.

Not violently.

Precisely.

Kael felt pressure wrap around his ribs—not crushing, but ...

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