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A soft rain whispered against the tall stained-glass windows of the ancestral study. Shadows ruled the room—long, layered, and deliberate. Velvet drapes muted the storm.

The only source of light was a low-burning fire in the marble hearth, casting a gold-red glow across the rugs and shelves stacked with forbidden knowledge.

Ermond Vale stood near the doorway, posture straight, gloves pristine—befitting the butler of the Blac house.

Behind the grand oak desk, wrapped ...

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