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... attacked. It had escaped its thousand-year prison, but it had flown from a cage of stone and sleep into the waiting jaws of two predators whose wills were harder than any rock.
They stood on the silent, milky-white light-bridge of the Aetherium Weave. They were no longer in the Weaver’s world. They were in a neutral space. And here, they were the stronger predators.
Rhys raised his hand. The Twilight Edge blade, his perfect fusion of shadow and light, formed in his palm. Emma sto ...
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