“Back here again, are we?” Iain whirled, kicking up sand, to face Vane. Standing proud and tall, but with a face to kill with its frozen ferocity, stood his brother. Dressed in a regal, golden cape and armor befitting a king, he held a sword like Villi had had, his encrusted with emeralds, its twin blood pipes shadowed on a polished, extremely sharp blade. “I see my servant has brought you before me.”
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