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Chapter 117 - And what of the local sentiment?

I looked at the three beastmen across the table—my hounds, my tools, my desperate protectors. They looked devastated, caught in a trap of their own making. They had brought me here, and then this happened. I had turned the entire Abyss into my throne.

"Go home, boys," I whispered, my golden eyes shimmering with a cruel, triumphant light. "I'll see you when the blight is cured."

Morrigan's voice suddenly cut through the heavy silence like a serrated blade. "I object to this!"

​She stood at the far end of the table, her black silks shimmering under the violet torches. Her face was a mask of sheer, unadulterated loathing as she looked from me to her brother, then back again.

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