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... , the sound of steady footsteps crunched over dry leaves and packed earth.
Kian.
Even before he reached the hut, his eyes locked with Cyrus. There was no greeting, no shift in expression—only a brief flicker of narrowed disdain, like a beast silently warning another off its territory.
The tension was quiet, oppressive, and immediate.
Kian didn’t slow his pace. He simply walked past the still figure of Cyrus, not offering even a flicker of acknowledgement. Behind h ...
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