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... burning wood and decay.

Her body ached, her head pounding from whatever force had thrown her and Draven out of the collapsing house.

She groaned, pushing herself up from the damp earth.

The night was quiet—too quiet.

The mist had thinned, but its presence still lingered like a whisper in the air.

Draven sat nearby, reloading his shotgun, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Define ‘okay’,” Mira muttered, rubbi ...

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