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Chapter 683: The Grove Illusions (1)
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... en settled enough for breath.
Sylvanna's knees threatened mutiny. A bead of sweat slid from her temple, chilled by weightless air halfway down. Draven caught her wrist. His pulse was a metronome—slow, exact. A whisper of mana rode that beat, threading into her veins. Breath found its cadence, heart fell in step. The world tilted upright.
She blinked at him, still gripping his sleeve. He withdrew in the next breath, expression unreadable. No thanks were offered, none requested. ...
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