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... hough he were drowning in air far too thin to sustain him. A stiff wind swirled, carrying with it the faint tang of something burnt and arcane, and I could almost taste the fear on him, like metal on my tongue. He was young, though it was hard to tell exactly—hunger and terror had carved lines into his face, deepening his age in a way normal years might not have.

His cloak, tattered and stained with the dust of this land, clung to him as if trying to merge with his trembling frame. His k ...

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