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The vial is empty. The number inscribed inside reads zero. For Elritte Cordeas, that single digit means everything: after a hundred deaths and a hundred returns to this same cursed morning, there will be no hundred-and-second chance. She has drowned as a witch, been poisoned at banquets, strangled in gardens, and burned at the stake—killed again and again by the smiling prince who only ever wanted her family's fortune, and the court that was only ever waiting for an excuse. Each time, her mothe
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