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Chapter 80: The King’s Wrath
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... enchantments, aimed for the broken boy kneeling in bloodied snow.
Lan’s hand rose—shaking, fingers trembling like snapped bone trying to knit.
He whispered, barely audible:
"I didn’t want to use this yet."
The heavens tore open.
The clouds above, blackened with thunder and old wrath, cracked with a thunderclap that silenced the battlefield. From the ruptured sky, something descended—not light, not fire—but the shape of judgment made into shadow.
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