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... only inches from her so-called comrades. Its fingers tightened on them as it spoke, voice honeyed and cruel.
"Your friends? Oh, dear swordswoman." It let out a mocking hum. "They are inside my prison. Locked away. These ones are merely their copies, created to confuse you and corner you into my lair. And they did."
The pale figures stood still, as if waiting.
Shiera's pulse roared in her ears. "Where?" she demanded, stepping forward, her sword gleaming in the dim light. < ...
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