Prologue

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He's running. He's running out of breath, and he's running. His piercing blue eyes are now dull and rimmed with tears, and his blonde hair flies behind him. Swerving in between the thin trees, he looks back to make sure whoever or WHATEVER is chasing him is at least a couple yards behind him. Suddenly, a root that is sticking out of the ground trips him, and he stumbles and falls.

He breathes heavily, not from running, but from the wound on his chest that reopened when he fell. 

"Elayne," he whispers. 

And his vision blurs.

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