Kylee

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Touching Lyra is the same as stroking ivory keys. Everything stops spinning, and my mind goes wholly still. There within the black-and-white of her soul exists a solace. My fingers beg to hear the music she’d make for me. It’s simply her and the piano. They know my secrets, the things the rest of the world will never.
The Blood We Crave: Part Two (The Hollow Boys, #4)
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