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... r tent reeked of ink, ash, and long hours. Outside, thunder cracked low against the hills. A storm was coming. But inside—the real Tempest was already seated at the table.

I pushed past the heavy flaps and entered.

"So..." I said coldly, my voice slicing through the stale air. "What did we find?"

Regis, hunched over a scroll, glanced up. He looked tired. Gaunt. Like the parchment in his hands had drained more blood than the battlefield ever could. He lowered the scroll an ...

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