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HUNDRED THIRTY SEVEN

CIARA’S POV

The nightmare hit me like a freight train.

I was standing under the old bridge in Elduric, the one that connected the northern and southern parts of our territory. The moon hung full overhead, casting everything in silver light that should have been beautiful but felt wrong. Cold. The air tasted of copper and fear.

My parents stood together in the center of the bridge, their backs to me. Mom's auburn hair caught the moonlight, and Dad's broad shoulders looked strong and protective ...

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