The pleasant, cool night air did nothing to soothe my fear but I forced myself to remember something good. My chest and throat felt tight, suffocating. They had lasted me on my journey from the Dead Mountain, but now made crackling sounds that made my belly churn with revulsion as I stepped towards the walled, glittering city. My aching feet felt like boulders encased in thin slippers, which were crafted from molted Ghertun skin. I was gasping, wanting to vomit from what I was about to do. I shivered, however, thinking that for all the city’s beauty, it resembled a weapon from a distance, with its spiked towers and glowing, welcoming light. And the city had many, many turrets, some taller than the others, some wider, and some so narrow they seemed to disappear in the night. I had never seen anything quite so beautiful. The windows of the towering turrets looked like golden jewels, shining and glittering and beckoning me in the dark. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons are purely coincidental. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination.
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