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... .

Her palm rested flat over his sternum, fingers spread, light pressure only. No wind-up. No dramatic motion. She did not need it. Jagger could still feel the echo of the first strike vibrating through his ribcage, a phantom tremor buried in bone and marrow. Every breath rasped against ribs that had only just knit themselves back together. His lungs dragged air in with a wet, scraping sound.

Beyond them, the battlefield raged without pause.

The Troll King roared again, a ...

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