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... of the city's poorest district.

Below them, the streets were different from yesterday—more guards. Patrols doubled, eyes sharp.

The city was tightening like a noose.

Daemon jumped down with a quiet thud, adjusting the black cloak.

The abandoned house Nyxtriel mentioned stood crooked at the edge of the street, half-buried in the creeping shadows of taller buildings. Broken windows. A sagging door.

Daemon slipped inside.

The moment he entered, a doze ...

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