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... ransformed.

The shadows in the corners deepened. Coalesced. Detached themselves from the walls. Eight figures, clad in the stark, functional black leather of the Inquisition’s covert squads, materialized from the gloom.

Their movements were utterly silent. Not the silver-clad Templars. These were the Inquisitors’ scalpels. Their spies and assassins. They fanned out. A perfect, inescapable semi-circle. Their shortswords and consecrated daggers were drawn.

Edward was trappe ...

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