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They finished each other’s sentences, plotted together, fought together, loved like a storm and a shield. The older boys were different. Her anchors. Soren, thoughtful and steady, already carrying the quiet gravity of leadership. And Kael—sharp, restless, brilliant in ways that made enemies nervous and allies cautious. And beyond them, the others—the ones she had taken in, rescued, claimed. Some called them adopted. Elira called them hers. Family, in her world, wasn’t blood. It was survival.