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The hilt has been seasoned, clinging to a metallic scent of blood. The edge was once flawless, save for a micr…

The hilt has been seasoned, clinging to a metallic scent of blood. The edge was once flawless, save for a microscopic nick at the tip, a scar from the day he first raised the steel to his own cheek.

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The hilt has been seasoned, clinging to a metallic scent of blood. The edge was once flawl… | Where Winds Meet Database