Seventy One: Summons of Doom

Mara's POV

The parchment trembled in my hands, its wax seal already cracked, crimson bleeding into the edges like a wound.

Even before I read the words, I could smell it. Judgment. Condemnation. The scent of death masked in formality.

The Council’s sigil stared back at me, a wolf’s eye beneath t...

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