That evening, high in the restored royal bedchamber of the Obsidian Spire, the mountain wind blew gently against the newly installed crystal windows. The roaring hearth burned with warm, golden ironwood fire, filling the room with the sweet fragrance of cedar and blooming mountain orchids. Auren and Lyra stood together on the private balcony, looking out over the illuminated peaks of the Dragonfang range. Below in the courtyards, thousands of…
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