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... he air thick with something unspoken. The estate was quiet, but not in the way of peace—more like the stillness before a storm, the weight of something inevitable pressing down on the horizon.

Liria sat at the edge of her bed, fingers curled loosely against the sheets. Sleep had been elusive. Her mind wouldn’t settle. The whispers had grown louder, curling at the edges of her thoughts, coaxing, waiting.

You know what must be done.

She had spent hours trying to ignore it. ...

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