What Blooms From Death - Sneak Peek
Prologue
I had not disturbed the graves on purpose.
Truthfully, I’d forgotten they were even there. I rarely visited this corner of the palace grounds, after all—no one did. The shadows cast by the walls around me were long, the pebbled paths beneath my sandaled feet overtaken with weeds and the rotting corpses of long-dead foliage. Most of the headstones were lost to the ravages of time, whatever secrets they held unreadable and unremarkable to the average eye.
At any rate, the graves marked by those stones had certainly not been my targets.
My aim had been higher. Focused on the withered flowers clinging to the twisting tree branches that formed a canopy over this tucked-away corner of my home. I felt a sickness in those shriveled blooms whenever I stared at them; their fading life force moved as a tingling sensation along my arms, raising little bumps across my skin.
Death took many different forms to me. I was still learning what forms I could detect, what I could decipher, what I could control…
And what I was better off leaving alone.
But the dying flowers, I’d decided, would be excellent practice targets. A good chance to exercise my powers, which had been growing increasingly restless with all the extra attention being paid to me over the past week.
It should have been an easy task—extracting the decaying energy from them, temporarily bringing them back to something that mimicked the brightness of life. It was a trick I’d managed with relative ease in the past.
Yet for all my familiarity with this trick, I’d failed.
So there I stood, still surrounded by withered blooms—and now by cracked gravesites, too. Little bits of white danced in the air above the broken ground, drifting and sparkling like snowflakes—the faint auras of the long-deceased. When those cold flakes brushed my skin, the tingling in my arms became more like the sharp proddings of needles.
More like a warning.
The air smelled of freshly turned soil with a rotten, musty undercurrent. The night seemed eerily quiet, save for the occasional groan of the slow, cold wind.
But at least there were no accidental bodies rising up, this time.
My mother—the queen—still would not be pleased at the messy disturbance I’d caused.
My father, meanwhile, would find it all wonderfully amusing; I could already imagine his laughter, his eyes dancing as he gently teased me about my wayward magic. Thinking of his laugh gave me courage enough to shake off the needling sensation in my skin and keep going in spite of my mistakes.
Everything is fixable, My Star. You just have to keep trying.
The sound of plodding footfalls made me jump.
I rolled the tension from my shoulders as Phantom—the silky-haired puppy my father had given me a year prior—clambered into view. He took one look at the ghostly specks of energy flitting through the air, and he clumsily settled onto his haunches with his head cocked in curiosity.
A trio of blackbirds alighted on the nearby wall as well, their feathers glistening like oil in the pale blue moonlight.
I ignored my audience and focused on soothing the bits of lingering energy in the air, guiding each one back into the broken ground with precise movements of my fingers. It helped to imagine the bits were attached to my fingertips, I’d learned over the years—to tether myself to such energy by way of invisible chains.
Once the air was clear again, I took a fallen branch covered in blooms, closed my eyes, and tried to refocus on the precise feel of the flowers’ decay.
Nothing had changed in the flowers when I opened my eyes—but the cracks in the dirt had widened in several places. The space again grew hazy, thick with my misguided magic and the uneasy, partially-roused energies of the dead.
I cursed under my breath.
Why couldn’t I do this?
Phantom yipped his disapproval. His keen blue eyes had a human-like awareness to them, I’d always thought, putting his judgmental looks on par with my mother’s.
“No one asked your opinion, now did they?” I muttered, hiking up my skirts and trudging toward the disturbed ground. I dropped down before the first grave and started to smooth it with my bare hands, raking my fingers through the cold soil to break up the uneven clumps, paying little mind to the grime collecting beneath my freshly painted nails.
Phantom panted and whined loudly behind me. I shot him a disagreeable look, but he didn’t seem bothered by it; I would have sworn the damned dog only smiled in response.
Secretly, however, I was glad he was here, judgment and all. He was fast becoming my constant companion. The only being in the court—aside from my father—who didn’t flinch when they saw me coming here lately.
I crawled from one grave to the next, putting the dirt back in order and pulling a few weeds along the way. The shimmering hem of my silver dress was soon streaked with grass stains and growing heavy from clinging, damp earth, but I persevered nonetheless.
Soon enough, the job was finished, the dirt smooth, the air crisp and clear.
I gathered up another handful of fallen blossoms. Most would have admitted defeat by this point, I guess—but I was stubborn, determined to follow through with my original goal, however silly it seemed after so many failures.
I glanced over my shoulder, making certain I was alone save for my dog. I took a deep breath.
And, this time, I allowed the shadowy markings along my neck and arms to lift from my skin as I focused on the flowers’ decayed energy.
My shadows were very adept at grabbing hold of dead things. They also made me feel like I was unraveling whenever they lifted away from my body, though—which was why I hadn’t called on them at the start.
Thankfully, it was a quick spell. The auras of the flowers were small, weak, easy enough to manipulate and pull out with my shadows. My hands were soon filled with blooms that glowed at the edges—the subtle shine of organisms drained of their morbid energy.
Faint as it was, the glow seemed bright against the deepening night. It cast a thin light over the cracked gravestones, drawing my eyes to their weathered, unreadable names once more.
I tossed luminescent blooms over the freshly-smoothed dirt, one after the other. “Whoever you are,” I said softly, “I’m sorry you’ve been forgotten here.”
This was far from the only dilapidated and disregarded area of my family’s estate. We had not lived among the sweeping grounds and ornate buildings of Rose Point for very long, and prior to my parents’ arrival, the place had sat empty for more than half a century. The king and queen had done a great deal to restore the central palace itself, along with the main grounds, but there were still plenty of overgrown corners and dust-coated corridors to explore. Plenty of buried secrets to dig up, a wealth of treasure and trouble to find…which was one of the things I loved most about my home.
One of the many things I would miss after tonight.
Because after tonight, everything would change.
I tossed the remaining flowers down with a slow, reverent sort of precision, save for a single, stubborn blossom that stuck to my palm.
I moved to show off its illuminated loveliness to Phantom—who had by this point fallen asleep in a pile of damp and rotting leaves—but before I could rouse him, the dog suddenly lifted his head of his own accord. His pointed ears twitched. A soft growl rumbled in his chest.
A smooth voice parted the quiet a moment later: “Lady Bellanova?”
Just Nova, I corrected—at least in my head.
I couldn’t get my mouth to form words, however. I’d frozen in place, newly aware of the dirt staining my dress and hands, and of the shadows still circling lazily around my body. I clamped my hand over those shadows. Pressed them back to my skin, bit by bit, where they settled like swirls of ink tattooed upon it.
Slowly, with as much dignity and poise as I could muster, I turned to meet the young man approaching me.
Like the magicked flowers, he stood out with a subtle yet certain brightness against the darkening twilight. His hair fell in short, thick waves around his face, framing his sharp jawline. The strands were a peculiar shade of silvery white, a color that seemed to have been absorbed from the cloud-covered moon itself. The sight would have been ethereal enough on its own, but combined with the shade of his eyes…
Let’s just say he was difficult to look away from.
The first time I’d met his gaze, years ago, I’d been sure the light was playing tricks on me. I’d never come across anyone with eyes of such deep, arresting gold—eyes the color of a sun-kissed wheat field. I’d soon learned the hue was common among his regal family, but at the time, he’d just been a young boy lost in the same courtyard where I’d been attempting to hide from my lessons; I hadn’t recognized him as royalty.
I recognized him well enough, now: Aleksander Caldor, Crown Prince of Elaris. The soon-to-be-ruler of that neighboring Kingdom.
And it was a wonder the light in his eyes had not gone out; in the year since we’d last seen one another, his mother had passed away, the result of a gruesome riding accident. Her husband had followed after months of self-imposed solitude and suffering—taken by his own hand, if rumors were to be believed. Aleksander was an only child—and now the sole remaining ruler of Elaris.
The Elarisian throne had been stewarded over the past months by the Keepers of Light, a council largely made up of the descendants of powerful magic-users who had first settled Aleksander’s kingdom. That council was eager to place their young prince on the throne and return their mourning lands to order and stability. Which was partly why he was here tonight—to shore up their relationship with Eldreth before he began his rule.
We should be honored they looked to us first, my mother had reminded me, countless times, over the past days. We need this alliance. Our kingdom needs this alliance.
Phantom got to his feet and trotted over to my side, nuzzling his sharp nose against my leg and letting out a whine. I gave him a reassuring scratch between his ears, just above the burst of white on his forehead—the only splotch of color in his jet-black fur.
My eyes never left the soon-to-be-crowned-king.
“A little dark for gardening, isn’t it?” Aleksander did a poor job of hiding his amusement as he looked my dirty self over from head-to-toe. His suppressed smile accented his dimples, the only hints of softness in his otherwise angular features.
I did my best to appear completely unaffected by those dimples. “Some blooms are more alive at night, and brighter in the darkness,” I countered, holding up the one still clinging so stubbornly to my palm, “so that’s when I tend to them.”
He considered the words, studying the flower with an intensity that made my heart beat faster.
The flower was already fading. Withering at the edges. Not surprising—the glow rarely lasted long. Even though I could sense and occasionally manipulate death’s hold over things, I couldn’t truly, permanently remove its grip.
"That makes sense, I suppose." As he spoke, Aleksander carefully took the flower from me. His fingertips brushed mine, sending a shiver up my arm and making the shadows on my skin shift slightly. My heart pounded even more furiously.
I kept my eyes on his hand as a soft white glow rose up from the lines of his palm, engulfing the shriveling bloom. As I watched, the edges of that bloom smoothed out and began to shine once more.
The King of Light, he would be called once he ascended the throne—just like his father and grandfather before him. He was a descendant of the most powerful line of those magical beings who had settled his kingdom. And unlike my own shadowy powers, his had been celebrated and nurtured since birth.
In all five kingdoms of the Valorian Empire, his magic was revered and welcomed.
I couldn't help but marvel at it myself, if only briefly, as he placed the flower back in my palm and closed my hand over it. I could see a gleam through the cracks between my fingers, warmer than the glow I’d caused. Where I had drawn out the decaying energy, he had simply forced light—life—back into the bloom. The end result was similar, and yet...
"Will I see you at the party soon?" he asked. "I believe the queen was looking for you. She seemed a bit frantic."
Mother always seems a bit frantic, I thought, biting my lip to keep the comment to myself.
I looked towards the main house. I could feel the buzz of activity within it. Could hear the music and laughter getting louder, and smell the delicious aromas of roasting meat and vegetables along with the sugary desserts waiting in the wings.
I forced my eyes back to Aleksander’s. "Sorry," I said, "I must have lost track of time."
I hadn't lost track of time at all.
And something told me the future Light King knew this. He said nothing, however, merely waving my tardiness away—as polite as he'd always been.
"I'll be in shortly," I assured him. There was no avoiding it. Because it was my party—a celebration of my eighteenth birthday.
And the gossip spreading through the Kingdom of Eldreth like wildfire all claimed the King of Light was here to bring what they considered a most incredible gift: He was going to ask for my hand in marriage.
I fought the urge to pick at the grime under my nails, trying to maintain my composure.
What did one say to a mere acquaintance who they might have to call husband soon?
How did I say it, when I must have looked positively feral in the moonlight, with my clothing covered in grave dirt and my hair hanging in disheveled waves around my sweat-streaked face?
I really owed my maids an apology for how thoroughly I’d sullied my appearance.
Luckily, Aleksander seemed to sense my discomfort and diffused the awkward air between us by way of a gentlemanly bow.
“I’ll be waiting for you inside, then,” he told me, sweeping a kiss across my knuckles before turning and heading back towards the palace.
My heart behaved strangely as I watched him go—simultaneously trying to soar and clench into a tight, protective ball.
It was kind of him to come all this way and make a show of officially proposing. Romantic, even. But any marriage between us would be purely political; I was not foolish enough to believe otherwise. Our kingdoms had once shared a powerful alliance, and it was simply the wise thing to do—focusing on rebuilding the connection.
Aside from this, it was the wisest move for me. My magic would be far less restless in the Elarisian Kingdom. My mother had assured me of this—that being around Aleksander and his light-magic-wielding court would help balance and temper my powers. Father seemed less convinced, but he was not one to argue when the Queen of Eldreth truly put her foot down about a matter.
I rarely agreed with my mother about anything, but in this case...
Well, there were worse birthday presents, surely. Far fouler things than being married off to a wealthy, handsome king who, by most accounts, was well-liked by his subjects.
The Kingdom of Elaris was said to be breathtakingly beautiful, too. I wouldn’t know; I’d only been there once when I was younger, and my memories of it remained a blur no matter how hard I tried to focus on them. The way others spoke of it, though, made it seem as if I was soon to be whisked away into a fairytale.
Of course, most fairytales had a darker story lurking underneath—a fact I’d started to mention several times after overhearing whispers about my supposedly enviable future…
But I held my tongue every time.
I would not complain. For my kingdom’s sake, I could bear any burden. For my family’s sake, I could carry the weight of a foreign crown, endure the pain of being a stranger in a strange land, leaving behind all I knew. It was just another form of death, I’d convinced myself.
And I had never feared death.
I drew myself up to my full height, settled my nerves, and marched inside with Phantom trotting at my heels.
I avoided the party for a little longer, sneaking my way toward my room first. Once there, I changed quickly out of my soiled clothing, opting for a sleeveless, simple gown in my favorite color—a rusted shade of orange—mostly because it was easy to slip on and secure without the help of any servants.
I picked stray flower petals and bits of mud from my long, dark tresses, redid the braids keeping the unruly locks away from my face, and assessed myself in the mirror.
Good enough.
Yet I lingered, noticing how dark the markings on my arms still were. They had not fully settled since Aleksander’s hand had brushed my skin; occasionally they twitched, the darkness rippling like strands of silk ribbons caught in a breeze.
The markings—and my magic—were no secret to anyone in the palace. Although I could make them disappear completely if I concentrated hard enough, burying them beneath my skin never lasted long before the restless itch to let them out again overcame me. Death was everywhere in this world, after all, in all its different forms, and my magic called to the different morbid energies.
Oftentimes, it was safer to let the darkness breathe. That’s why I’d been hiding in that corner with the gravestones—because I’d desperately needed to breathe.
I needed to be under control for this party.
“I am under control,” I told my reflection.
Phantom gave a concerned yip, drawing my attention. I knelt before him, straightening his jeweled collar.
“Are we ready for this, you think?” I asked, running my fingers through his silky fur.
He let out a happier bark before twirling in a circle.
I smiled, wondering if the King of Light was a dog lover—and then promptly decided that I didn’t care; Phantom was coming with me to Elaris, either way.
“Come on, then,” I said, standing and turning for the door. “Let’s get it over with.”
I went to the door and, with stiffened resolve, pulled it open—
And found my mother standing on the other side, hand outstretched toward the handle. She’d clearly had no intentions of knocking.
We stared at one another.
The queen spoke first. “Nova, that isn’t the dress we agreed—”
“The other one is dirty.”
My mother pursed her lips.
“Ah, but this one looks splendid on her, doesn’t it?” my father offered, appearing behind his wife. He quickly stepped between me and her critical gaze—just as he’d been doing for the past eighteen years. “The color brings out her eyes.”
The queen breathed in deeply through her nose several times before managing a smile. “I suppose it does,” she agreed with a soft sigh, her gaze flicking up to mine.
Our bright turquoise eyes were one of the few things we had in common—one of the few things I had in common with either of my parents’ appearances. As she stared into them, maybe she was reminded of this—that I was, in fact, her daughter. Maybe that was why she gave me a quick embrace before hurrying me down the hall.
Phantom raced ahead, nose lifted into the air, eagerly following the smell of the feast awaiting us.
“We’ve been ready to announce you for the past half hour,” my mother said as we practically jogged down the portrait-lined corridor. “Everyone is eager to see you.”
I doubted this last part but didn’t say so; I merely nodded along as she launched into yet another recap of the events she had planned for the evening, and how they would now have to shift due to my lateness.
My father rescued me again as we came to the massive double-doors of the banquet hall, insisting he wanted to escort me inside himself. My mother let me go without a fuss, her attention catching on a servant who was sorting silverware in a way that was apparently all wrong!
“She means well,” my father said, wincing a bit as we watched her hurry off and fix her frantic energy on the poor servant.
“I know.”
He veered away from the banquet hall and beckoned me to follow, pulling a small, wrapped box from the inside pocket of his waistcoat once we were out of Mother’s sight.
Inside the gift box, I found a bracelet with beads painted in almost the exact shade of my eyes. A few had symbols painted on them as well, drawn with precise, painstakingly neat brushstrokes.
“I commissioned it from Orin,” he said.
Orin Greenbark was one of my many teachers. Mother was not particularly fond of him and his unorthodox views on magic—among other things.
And there was magic in this piece he’d created, no doubt; I could already feel it coming to life as I slipped the bracelet on.
“You like it, I hope?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Good. Happy birthday, My Star.” He planted a kiss on top of my head. “Now, let’s get to this party before your mother disowns us both.”
Though he did escort me through the doors as planned, after my appearance was officially announced the king was swallowed up by his own admirers, everyone clamoring for a chance to speak face-to-face with him.
The King of Light was having a similar effect on the partygoers on the other side of the room.
Because of this, I found it easy to disappear into the shadows even though I was the guest of honor.
The hall was even more impressive than usual. Dozens of tables spanned the space, draped in layers of silk and lace, glittering with silver and gold cutlery, overflowing with platters of exotic fruits and delicacies. The scent of spices mingled with perfumes worn by guests, wrapping me in a rich, heady embrace. The music of string ensembles and flutes filled the hall—a soothing backdrop to the conversations growing more raucous by the minute thanks to the countless wines flowing freely from stations in every corner.
I found Phantom hiding under a table, devouring scraps of some slab of meat he’d managed to pilfer. At the sight of me, he gulped down the remaining bits and scurried to my side.
Heads turned my way as I continued my walk through the dazzling room. Most offered a polite bow or a generic well-wish for my birthday. Few made prolonged eye contact or conversation.
I was not revered the way my parents, or my alleged-husband-to-be, were—but I was not hated, either. I was…tolerated. The odd daughter of a well-liked king and queen. Despite my strange magic, I’d never caused any real trouble for the royal city I called home, and so I was mostly left to my own devices, overlooked save for the rare occasions when my mother insisted on celebrating me.
I doubted any of the people here would care if I left this kingdom.
Most probably wouldn’t even realize I’d gone.
Some days, I wondered if it would have been easier if they all hated me. If that would have been better than being overlooked—better than being able to blend perfectly into a party but rarely asked to dance.
It was unsettling to feel so alone in a room full of hundreds of people who knew my name.
“Maybe a change won’t be so bad,” I mumbled to Phantom as I slipped him a slice of roasted beef.
Maybe things would be different in Elaris.
For the next several hours, I drifted through the glittering spaces, sipping my favorite red wine and slipping in and out of daydreams about what awaited me in the weeks to come.
The night pressed on. The crowd grew more inebriated. The full moon rose higher, the skylights allowing its beams to press in and strike chandeliers, sequined dresses, and dangling jewelry, turning the room into a shimmering kaleidoscope of color and movement.
It was easy to get swept up in the magic of the event, however detached I might have felt from the people around me. Easy to enjoy the moment. To appreciate all the work that had gone into it—and it soon occurred to me that I should find my mother and thank her for that work.
After a bit of searching, I found her standing by my father on the largest of several verandas attached to the banquet hall. Speaking with the future Elarisian King.
Of course.
Aleksander was accompanied by an impeccably-dressed servant who held a beautiful weapon—a blade secured in a sheath of white and gold—which the future king was busy presenting and describing to my parents. A gift for them, I assumed.
He was the first to notice my approach. He tilted his head toward me, pausing his speech long enough to offer a small smile. My heart reacted just as it had in the garden—with an odd combination of desire and uncertainty.
The music around me slowed. The world seemed to slow with it. I could sense my parents’ eyes shifting my direction, the weight of their expectations growing heavier with each passing second. My chest tightened. It felt as if I was approaching the crux of this night—the moment that would divide my life and legacy into before and after.
Aleksander went back to addressing my parents. My pulse skipped several beats, wondering what other gifts he planned to lavish on my family and kingdom before the night was through. I wanted to hurry closer, to hear the ideas he had for his rule, for our alliance…
And yet something slowed my steps—a feeling I couldn’t name.
So I didn’t reach the veranda before…something struck the ground between Aleksander and my parents with a vicious crack!
Smoke exploded from where it hit, throwing up a thick curtain that billowed into the banquet hall.
The riotous laughter and chatter of the hall faded into confused silence. The music screeched to a halt. The clattering and clanging of dishes echoed in the stillness for a moment before ceasing along with everything else.
The sound of boots hitting stone came next—dozens of bodies dropping onto the veranda from somewhere above. The smoke made it difficult to see, but I could tell my parents were being surrounded.
Shouts rang out.
Palace guards surged through the panicking crowd, shoving partygoers aside and barreling toward the king and queen.
I hiked up my dress and sprinted after them.
Phantom darted after them as well, his large body further clearing a path for me to follow. I kept my eyes narrowed on my dog, trusting him to find the quickest route—I was so focused on him I didn’t see a man crossing into my path until it was too late.
We collided. Hard. As I fell, a strong hand caught my arm, jerking me back upright, and I found myself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes.
I didn’t know his name, but I’d seen this man at Aleksander’s side throughout much of the night. He looked like a muted version of the Elarisian royalty—more earthy than ethereal, but with glints of gold in his eyes and hair. His rolled-up sleeves allowed a glimpse of tattoos that appeared to cover most of his right arm.
After a few seconds, his eyes widened in recognition, and his hold on me tightened. “Princess, it isn’t safe—”
I ripped free and sprinted onward.
By the time I hurtled onto the terrace, the smoke had cleared enough for me to see Aleksander standing tall and clear in the moonlight. His hand was wrapped around the hilt of the blade he’d been presenting to my parents.
The blade that was now buried in my father’s chest.
He yanked it out and turned to my mother next.
I moved faster. Without pausing to think, I threw myself in front of my mother, knocking her to the ground. Palace guards swarmed over her, gathering her up and carrying her to safety.
I spun to face Aleksander. The tip of his sword came within an inch of my throat, where it collided with an explosion of shadows that lifted from my skin without any effort or control from me.
Little fissures appeared in the sword as it was struck by the shadows. Light leaked from the cracks, radiance rising up to meet my darkness.
Our competing energies swirled faster and faster, engulfing us. The tangled power raked like claws over my skin, whipping my clothing and hair wildly about, leaving me breathless and shaking.
Our eyes met through a hazy cloud of light and dark, his golden irises burning like twin suns ready to implode and devour the world.
I heard the thump of knees hitting the ground, followed by the rest of a body. My father’s body. I glimpsed it crumpling down into a motionless heap behind Aleksander.
Rage blinded me. My shadows swelled, and I would have sworn they turned solid for a moment, shifting into monstrous limbs that knocked everything and everyone—ally and foe alike—to the ground.
When they faded to mere haze once more, Aleksander was gone.
The sword he’d used to stab my father was now embedded in the stone floor of the veranda. It had cleaved straight through the marble tiles as if cutting through dirt.
My father’s blood dripped down the blade.
Another rush of rage overtook me. My shadows became solid extensions of my body once more, talons that dug into the world around me, grappling for control.
The veranda cracked apart, a chasm opening in the middle and swallowing up the sword.
The cracks swept outward, forcing me to jump back to avoid being swallowed up myself. A renewed chorus of screams filled the air, followed by the thunder of footsteps as people scrambled to put more space between them and the breaking terrace.
Phantom grabbed a mouthful of my dress and tried to pull me toward safety. I stumbled a few steps backward until my gaze fell upon my father again, on his body that was rolling precariously close to the opening chasm.
A dozen feet separated us, yet I reached out my hands as though to catch him. My shadows swept forward with the movement, spiraling, wrapping around his lifeless figure. But, try as I might, I couldn’t get my magic to turn solid enough to secure him—to stop him from meeting the same fate as the sword.
The ground shook, rolling him forward, swallowing him up.
Gone.
Just like that, he was gone, leaving only a trail of blood and bits of broken shadows in his wake.
The few people who hadn’t fled were staring at me, horrified. Everything was spinning. Unraveling. I felt out of control, out of options, out of ideas. So I turned away from the widening chasm…
And I ran.
Shadows followed. Destruction followed. Wherever I went, darkness flailed alongside me, occasionally catching on living things and draining them, felling bodies, cutting swaths of grey through what had once been lush courtyards.
I ran faster. Faster, faster, faster, until, finally, I stood alone atop the highest hill overlooking Rose Point. Gasping for breath, I gazed back at my home, trying to make sense of what had happened.
I willed myself not to be afraid.
Death, after all, took many forms to me.
But the day I watched the future King of Light murder my father was the first day Death’s shadows took my form, wrapping me in a merciless embrace, turning me into a vessel of lethal darkness.
And it would not be the last time my shadows raged out of control, seeking both solace and vengeance but finding neither.
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