Chapter 50 50

“Claudor sensus, vestigia abscondo; Corpus lateat, odor pereat. Praeda non sim, oculis negata, Umbra me celat, nullus me sentiat.” I whisper it so barely I almost can't even hear myself, but I know the words. They are etched on my soul. I have recited them mentally on this journey so many times, in ...

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