In the dimly lit stone bothy, the temperature seemed to plummet to freezing. The driftwood fire was dying, but the cold that gripped the room did not come from the alpine wind; it radiated from Prince Caelan’s body. Black veins of *Void-Bane* poison crept outward from the puncture wound on his shoulder, branching across his neck and collarbone like necrotic spiderwebs. Because of the symmetrical bond, Mira was suffering every…
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