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... ds that swirled like ink in water. From the high balcony flanked by twin braziers, their flames swaying gently in the rising wind, a lone figure stood.

Sapphira.

Her silken robe fluttered in the breeze, the hem brushing the ornate stone beneath her feet. The silver streak in her otherwise oily-black hair gleamed under the firelight, like moonlight caught in a raven’s wing. Her eyes, sharp and sorrowful, gazed over the sprawling cityscape of Nineveh, the capital of Ashbourne Duked ...

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