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You only feel it when it's lost Getting through still has a cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you drop by drop Three bells after midnight. Hour of the wolf.  Even during the age of twilight, for a thousand dayless years, the hour of the wolf had been when the shadows were the longest. It was an hour of contemplation, and, more often than not, of solitude. A single candle kept the darkness at bay tonight, but no amount of burning wax and cotton could stave off the suffocating feeling of isolation creeping up on Lazuli's heart. "It is strange, is it not?" Lazuli whispered, staring into the flame. "How fate toys with us." A gentle gust danced through the room. The candle flickered, and for a moment its light, reflected silvery by the corpse, made the wooden walls look like the skies on a cloudy day. Lazuli felt the sudden urge to chuckle. Nothing came out.  "My pampa  used to tell me stories about it, sasa ke ? About the silver

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