Chapter 59 Chapter 59: The Language of Liquidation

The wind at the southern docks didn't just carry the scent of salt; it carried the cold, metallic tang of an ending. As the Voss transport shuttle’s ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics, the white gold fire in my palms didn't just hum it roared. Beside me, Jaxon was a statue of tattered crimso...

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