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The wind carried the sound of casting from the camp now, heavy and compressed; this should be from an Adept if I could hear it from this distance. Soon, all the Adepts would fall, and I did not want to be anywhere near this place when it happened.
I did not let my face change. The rage that wanted to register the deaths of my companions was the rage I had been carrying since the camp had first fallen in front of me, and I could not afford to let Rex see it.
The rage was the lever Rex would use against me, since it was incredibly suspicious. An Acolyte like me should not be feeling rage at this moment, just fear, and no doubt Rex saw my sarcasm as a way to hide or deflect that fear.
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