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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The night goes colder and colder as the rain goes near. With the thunders and lightning continuously rocking the lands of Hymir, trembling under its light and horrifying roars. Morrigan stood there silently in front of the room of her uncle, her hands around the hilt of the dagger in her hand. The blood tainting it drying and leaving traces of the rustic liquid on its sharp blade. Her eyes are void of other emotions but anger. The air around her is sinister as her eyes have nothing but cravings for more blood to spill. Her hands are already tainted with blood but she knows there will be no point in turning back. Whatever she did it for her good, for her sanity, for her reputation, for her freedom, and for the rightful things that are meant for her that the Prince Regent wanted to rob her. 

Her hands reached for the cold knob of the door, pushing it stealthily till it creaks ominously, letting in enough light to the room. The occasional lightning casting a

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