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Chapter 9; Death-Roll

THRYSTAN

As soon as I was able, I extricated myself from the throng of admirers and made a beeline for Arwyn. Determination burned within me, propelling me forward as I followed her with single-minded focus. She moved with purpose, her steps sure and deliberate, and I matched her stride.

Arwyn hurried off to the Infirmary and I follow suit, hot on her tail—I couldn't let her slip away from me again. Not this time.

As I entered the Infirmary, the scent of anticeoptic and herbs hit me like a wave, momentarily overwhelming my senses. My eyes scanned the room, searching for her amidst the rows of neatly arranged beds and bustling healers.

There she was, standing near the far wall, her back turned to me as she spoke quietly to one of the attendants. Without a second thought, I closed the distance between us, my steps purposeful and determined.

"Arwyn," I called out, my voice a low, urgent whisper that cut through the sterile air.

Startled, she turned to face me, her eyes widening in
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