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... ow. Painful. Not clean. It has to be that way—his body is stitched, broken, rebuilt a dozen times over. The potion knits together torn muscle, reinforces fractured bones, and tamps down the spreading corruption from his last battle.

A tremor runs through Gander's limbs as the potion finishes its grim work, leaving behind a throbbing ache deep in his joints. He doesn't move for a moment. Just breathes. The green orbs in his eye sockets dim, then flare again—steady now.

He mutters ...

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