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... s back, their black feathers streaked with dried blood. The horns curling from his temples glowed faintly under the rising dawn. His eyes burned quietly, the irises swirling between crimson and molten gold as they stayed fixed on the broken form lying before him.

Francisca’s body lay twisted in the fractured asphalt. Her silver hair was matted with blood, spreading like pale threads across the stained ground. The wound through her chest was blackened at the edges, burned by Adam’s touch. ...

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