PREVIEW
... up a safe zone outside the mimic-scarred village. Flattened some carts, built a rough shade wall, and let the locals breathe. They still clutched candles like talismans. No one trusted fire to behave.
I didn’t blame them.
Cinders was somewhere behind me, holding three pots steady on one flame thread. She wasn’t saying anything, but her stirring rhythm had gotten sharp. The kind of motion you make when you want to fix something with your hands because your head can’t.
I kn ...
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