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... ranches and leaping over tangled roots.

The scent of burnt wood and bitter potions still lingered in the air—scars of the battle that had ended hours ago.

He'd scoured every corner of this cursed forest, but Dayne was nowhere. Not a print. Not a whisper.

Finally, he came to a stop beneath a towering oak, sweat dripping down his face.

"Damn it," he muttered, planting his hands on his knees. "Is it already over?"

He stared out at the still woods, heart pound ...

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