When I wake, Corbin is gone.For a moment, I think I’m still dreaming. The bed beneath me is softer, smaller, and the air smells of herbs and wood smoke. I sit up slowly, my senses sharp. This isn’t our room.I’m in a small hut, the walls curved with age, low shelves lined with old jars and bone-carved symbols. Light spills in from a thin crack under the door.Something pulls at me—familiarity buried beneath layers of memory. I slip from the bed, careful not to make a sound, and creep toward the door.Voices.Faint but urgent, echoing from somewhere deeper in the hut. I follow the sound down a narrow corridor, its stone floor cool under my feet. A soft amber light glows from a room at the end. I inch closer, heart pounding, and peer through the crack in the door.Inside, two people argue in hushed but intense voices.And I freeze.They look like me.The woman stands tall and graceful, her body curved and her emerald eyes fierce with emotion. The man beside her is built like a warrior—
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