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All Things Dead
Sentenced to death by drowning, a deathweaver attempts a daring escape.
“…for the crimes of witchcraft…” the priest droned on.
Crime? All I had done was make use of a dead donkey to pull my cart.
“The abomination called forth my brother from his grave!” The man’s shout distracted me enough that I looked at him. Even though my arms and legs were tied, he flinched when our eyes met.
Idiot. My magic was for the dead. No living thing would be touched by it.
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