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Chapter One Hundred And Eighty Two

There were no celebrations. No cries of relief.

Just orders.

Scouts were sent out.

Messengers rushed in and out of the war chamber.

A cold council formed at the king's table-Baron, generals, veilbound witches, pack leaders.

They spoke in low voices about the broken buildings, the fallen towers, the danger of poisoned spells left in the streets.

Outside, the city was swept clean as fast as possible.

Blood, ash, and shattered stone were pushed aside by lines of workers. They ...

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