The confrontation atop the Arch of the First Queen took place six hundred feet above the churning abyss, suspended on a translucent ribbon of star-quartz barely ten paces wide. Vivianne Vance stared at Rowan Blackwood, her pale, translucent wraith-face twisting into a sneer of pure, venomous mockery. "Still playing the martyr, Rowan?" she hissed, the void-ice tentacle on her right shoulder writhing like a black serpent. "You were so eager…
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