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Summary
There was someone here.
A young man, close to San’s age, with tangled, platinum blond hair that brushed his shoulders, and golden skin stained by grime. His round eyes stared back at San, wide with fear.
The split lip, scratches across his face, and tear tracks on his cheeks set off alarms in San’s mind, but those weren’t what made his heart stumble in his chest.
It was the wings.
White, imposing, majestic. Swan’s feathers. The kind he saw in paintings in churches when people spoke of angels.
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