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... read that would prickle one’s skin.

Yet, Dawin moved with his usual unhurried grace toward the elevator, the soft ding echoing in the silence. He had barely emerged on his mother’s private floor when she appeared, her face a rigid mask of fury, a stark contrast to her usual serene composure.

"Dawin!" Her voice, usually a silken murmur, was sharp, frayed at the edges with a desperation he rarely heard. She pulled him by the hand, her grip surprisingly strong, her movements determi ...

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