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The roads below didn't match anything he remembered from the maps at Evernight. Too many bends. Too many wild trees. The rivers were wrong. The fences were crooked.
And no one kept torchlight anymore.
Lindarion squinted into the wind. His eyes were dry. The air hurt. But he kept watching. The third village below them had barely ten rooftops and no smoke. Dead farmland, half a wall around it. They didn't slow down.
He didn't want to see it up close anyway.
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