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... nside the Gate of Apocalypse, a place countless people dreamed of, within a dilapidated little house.
Zayne stood there, looking at Astrachior’s body, his expression tangled and heavy.
To him, Astrachior had been a towering figure, someone you could only look up to.
Every move calculated, every outcome anticipated, as if the entire world rested in his hands.
If Astrachior had truly wanted to kill him, the corpse lying on the floor would have been Zayne’s.
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