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Chapter 108: Speech
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Lindarion lay motionless on the floor.
Not asleep. Not unconscious. Just still.
The stone beneath him was cold. Slick with blood that no longer bothered to clot.
Some of it was his.
Not all of it.
The taste of copper coated the back of his throat like something spilled and never scrubbed clean. A single thread of red still ran from his split lip to the floor, curving across his chin like punctuation.
A period at the end of a sentence that no on ...
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