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... a fierce energy. Frosty silver swirls coiling tighter around its clawed hands until they snap outward like an over-cranked jack-in-the-box.
A sound—like a high-pitched whistle mixed with the tearing of paper—rings my ears. Wind howls through the clearing, laced with blue and silver light that stings my eyes and boggles my brain. I’m not used to seeing wind. The blast hits an unexpecting Clyde square in the chest as he raised his pistol, leveling to take a shot at one of the yeti goblins ...
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