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Miraak’s icy orbs gloss over the wyrms that flank the matriarch on either and there is no fear in his eyes. Only rage; a fire that has long been cinders. The arrogance of this woman to believe that her dragons would not turn on her !
❝ your beasts do not frighten me, witch. ❞ The First’s fists clench, teeth gnashing against his plump, lower lip.
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