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... Devours the Moonlight Within Me
Onyx’s jet-dark gaze flared wide—panic, desperation, something uncharacteristically human fracturing her otherwise cold-blooded demeanor. "My love... my radiant, irredeemable Irvine," she whispered, voice tight with a fear too ancient to be melodrama. "I beg of you—forget what I just said. Forget it in the way a corpse forgets breath. Psionic foresight is a dagger made of possibility, and it cuts the wielder as surely as the world. There’s a reason even C ...
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