Davan  Thornton

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Another spear of pain bolted through my chest, leaving me gasping. An onslaught of images, too quick to decipher, flashed by. But I didn’t need to see them to feel it. Hear it. Notes of a song that sounded like him. The next words of a sentence we hadn’t yet finished. “Asar.” The name was a sudden exhale. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)
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