“Can I…” He had a long box in his arms, and he placed it down on the bed with an expression of longing. The wood was carved with the Orion constellation which I’d engraved in it myself. My breath snagged in my lungs, and I stepped past him, opening the box and taking out the beautiful sword forged in Phoenix fire. The one I’d made for him as a gift the night before he’d been arrested. I’d tried not to think about that night, but it was written into my soul as clearly as the zodiac was written into the stars. There was no escaping it. No way of hiding how much it had meant to me. But it only
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