Two young men appeared to her. One was handsome and dark, a man who often smiled but hid great pain beneath the surface. The other had a more serious face. He was light-skinned, like all the northern folk, and slender. He was hardly more man than boy. But there was a depth to him that astonished Sequara, a presence that suggested far more than his years should be able to bear. He was sad and mysterious, perhaps because of a keen awareness of life’s fleetingness, which gave it both beauty and tragedy that colored everything he saw and experienced. And though she could not feel the gift in this
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