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... Auravale, the wind whipping his coat around him like a cloak of shadows. The air smelled of sulfur, sweat, and the coppery tang of spilled blood.
Below him, the world was ending.
The South Gate, a massive structure of iron-reinforced oak that had stood for a century, was groaning under the assault. It was under siege not by an army of men, but by a tide of nightmares.
Thirty brave souls—City Watch guards who hadn’t fled with Caelum—were holding the line. They were firing ...
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