Chapter XLIII. Domenic
XLIII
DOMENIC
WINTER
Within the cavern where all prophecies had first grown, Summer’s champion gasped for breath upon his knees. Alban roots threaded across every crook and crevice of the stone around him, entirely white except for the golden handprints beneath his palms.
A lone leaf sprouted beside him.
Fearful yet still hopeful, always hopeful, Domenic reached for it.
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