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Saffron tore out of the vision, falling backward with a gasp, a shuddering heave of his chest. Tears spilled over his eyes, heart racing as if he’d been one of those sprinting up and down the stairs. The king, the wolf king— The ghosts, the bones— A school of Aridology— Hunching forward, Saffron crossed his arms over his face, but couldn’t scream. Morrígan’s west campus—had been for humans.
