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Chapter 78

  • The fortress did not sleep.
  • Even in the smallest hours before dawn, when the world should have been soft and silent, the great stone keep of the Vietnam Pack breathed with uneasy life. The wind moaned through the cracks in its walls, torches sputtered low, and guards murmured to one another in voices barely above the growl of the sea. The sound was constant—an ancient rhythm of vigilance and exhaustion.
  • Ariana had grown used to it. It had become the music of her survival.
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