Pragya

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“I don’t care!” Shem said, his ashy form swirling away now into darkness, as did the shadowed smithy and then the hayloft itself. “I don’t care! I must know . . . !” Finally, even the glowing thing that had been Ruben became only a bright point in the blackness . . . a star. . . .
The Stone of Farewell (Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, #2)
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