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... l uneven. His eyes followed Arash’s back as he walked away, the assassin’s long shadow stretching beneath the corridor’s dim light.

But the look in Velghan’s eyes had changed. There was no admiration left from the past—only a seething, uncontrollable hatred. His left hand slipped into a hidden pocket beneath his bloodstained coat.

He pulled out a small glass vial, old and oddly shaped—like a petrified drop of water, filled with a swirling liquid of shifting colors, as if it were ...

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