Marcus

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The ice cold wall burned his back as he stood shackled to it. The stones kept the chill of death that the dungeon was so use to. He knew not what was to become of him, only that it was not good.
He stood in a puddle of his blood as the nubs on his back still seeped with blood. His wings had been taken, and so had his freedom.
The metal cuffs held tight to his wrist. He had tried to break free but only sliced his wrists open with small cuts. That was hours ago but icy steel cutting his flesh was still alive in his aching arms.
His thirst was greater then what he had ever known. He felt as though so
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