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Celestia stood alone.
Her guild had fallen. Her strongest warriors were either dead or enslaved, their minds twisted into Darius's loyal thralls.
She had fought harder than anyone—led raids, assassinated his lieutenants, destroyed his strongholds—but in the end, none of it mattered.
Now, she stood within his throne room, shackled in black chains, her once-pristine armor torn and broken.
Darius sat on his obsidian throne, watching her with an expression ...
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