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... the ears of every assassin like a serpent’s whisper, paralyzing them mid-step. From behind a thicket, she emerged; Blood, draped in her crimson gown that shimmered faintly under the moonlight like silk soaked in rubies.

Her eyes, like frozen wine, scanned the glowing camp ahead with a faint smile, one that never touched her eyes.

"Wait until it’s almost dawn," she murmured, her tone cold and controlled. "They’ll be much weaker then."

Crossing her arms, she tilted her head ...

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