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Chapter 13

Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell - Walter Scott

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Magic made my nose itch. The green, brown herbal powder was charged with it when Sara had finished working the spell. I never thought magic would’ve been so tangible before today. In all of Balric’s memories of it, I had never remembered such a feeling. It chilled me to the bone or maybe that came from sitting in the wet earth, surrounded by a damp, chilly fog of the very early morning.

“There, done,” Sara said when we had finished. She got up from the ground. Her white dress was stained from the earth, but she didn’t seem to care.

I stood up as well, but I tried to remove the dirt that stuck to me. “So Ian breathes this in and bam! No more super-powered werewolf.”

She gave me a small grin. “Correct. Why don’t you go back inside? You look cold.”

My head shot up. What did she mean by that? Sara laughed, ignoring my silent demand for an explanation. Well, if I was honest, I was freezing,
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