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... s like a veil of breath, a living curtain that shimmered as if infused with the same light that pulsed beneath their skin.
The steps were wide and smooth, carved not from stone but from dense woven roots, each one supporting their weight without a sound, like the island itself was lifting them with every stride.
Jude led, his body warm with the memory of the joining, the taste of Rose still on his lips, the scent of Lucy’s hair lingering in his senses. Behind him, the others move ...
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