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Charles was born with his wings.

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I watch myself in the gilded mirror as my blood hardens. It is an ache like sore muscles, like hard nausea, streaming slowly from my heart.
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It was all I dreamed about, nine years later, as I constructed a gift for Princess Emera’s seventeenth birthday ( Read more... )

I was created of beeswax and honey, with a butterfly for my heart. He should have used a spider or iridescent beetle.
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