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... sidence, casting amber shadows that flickered like the echoes of battle still fresh in their memories. Outside, the night wind rustled through the leaves with a quiet hush, while inside, a different kind of stillness settled—one that lingered with warmth and anticipation.

Evon sat quietly by the hearth, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair as he nursed a cup of mellowroot wine. Lyria entered from the corridor, her crimson hair cascading freely over her shoulders, damp from a rec ...

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