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... unting the empty liquor bottles on his way to the balcony doors. He stopped at thirteen, shaking his head and chuckling. Foster, Bryn, and her two friends from the palace guard were all above tier eight, and they hadn’t struggled in the least to clean out Victor’s liquor cabinet. He pulled the doors wide, letting in the fresh, late-morning air, then stepped out, turning his face to the sun, soaking it up. He felt remarkably good.

Bryn hadn’t been lying about the “Elemental Therapist.” Th ...

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