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... isitors’ wing—two rooms with clean beds, washing facilities, and guards posted outside their doors. Not quite prisoners, but not quite free either.

Marron stood at the window of her room, looking out over Lumeria’s rooftops. Somewhere below, in the deepest vault, Edmund was sealing away the Perfection Slicer. Triple seals. Four locks. Buried until memory faded.

She wondered if the Slicer was awake enough to feel that burial. To understand what it meant.

You’re never going ...

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