Moraine’s pained cry was a soft caress against my ears, her dark eyes widening in shock and understanding while I stared at her in uncomprehending confusion. Her hand grasped for the sliver of silver which protruded from her chest, the tip of a bloody knife jutting from her heart before being ripped away so fast I wasn’t certain I’d seen it at all. I lunged for her, catching her weight as she fell on me, her eyes holding mine in a brutal realisation which tore through me with agonising clarity as the light faded from them so fast, I could barely capture the memory of it in my palm. “Moraine,”
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