AURORAI walked quietly through the dense bush, every step soft and deliberate, the only sound around me was the chirping of birds and the crunch of dried leaves.The air was thick, humid, almost still. My heart pounded as I approached the exact spot Lyon described from the parchment.I stopped, no one was here. My eyes scanned the treeline, then the ground, nothing.I had gotten it wrong? Had they changed their mind? Or worse… was Oprah already dead?A sudden rustling in the bushes snapped my attention to the left. My breath hitched.Five masked men emerged, each clad in dark leather, their faces obscured by cloth. In between them was Oprah.“Oprah,” I breathed, my voice cracking.She was barely standing, her wrists tightly bound with coarse rope, her head hanging low, face bruised, her lip split.She looked fragile, like she could collapse with the wind. My eyes welled with tears at the sight.“Let her go! Now! I’m here! It’s me you wanted!” I shouted, my voice filled with desperat
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