I turned my focus to Furnace’s children—my children. Their minds boiled, ravaged beyond repair, each thought screamed kill, over and over again, a ceaseless command that came from their very blood, that would not let them rest. And yet beneath their fury, in a part of their minds buried so deep that even they no longer knew it existed, I could see the children they had once been, before Furnace had gotten to them, before they had been turned. Those kids had been drowned beneath a lake of nectar, too far gone now to remember their names, to remember their old lives, and yet somehow still
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