“Well, you remember Vane, at least. Maybe if I tell you my name you'll remember me? Your own brother Villi?” Iain's memory felt suddenly full. He remembered playing with a young blonde boy when he was a teenager, with Vane's eyes but none of his malevolence, helping the young boy bring home stray cats to an enormous wooden house, whittling a toy horse like the one he had had when he had been younger.
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