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He had stepped toward Alba, but it seemed as if he had barely moved. It was as if the heavens and earth had conspired to resettle the ground beneath his feet.
She was like a palmful of mercury: achingly lustrous in light or gloom, slipping cool through his fingers. Gone before he could catch his fist closed.
When you descended into the dark, you never went alone.
It was easy to be bold in the dark.
