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Chapter 166: When Waiting Ends
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Chapter 168: The Architect’s Shadow
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... e he was, one hand resting against the sheet, his breath moving slow enough to lift the fabric and let it fall.
For a moment he'd thought the room had changed. But it didn't. The chair sat angled toward the window, the ceiling beam above him held the same hairline split it always had, and the latch on the shutters held fast against the morning air. Light crept in along the floorboards and stopped at the bedframe.
He shifted his wrist and felt the paper through the table grain. He ...
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