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Erefiel was toying with me; deliberate shallow cuts made to tire me out as he knew my body would not be able to last long enough with all the energy I was expending. His turns and gyrations were sharp, making sure to constantly stay at my sides. I could feel the gust of air cocoon around us, venting through the flat side of Erefiel’s sword.
Eleventh Cycle (Mistland, #1)
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