Chapter 114: The Bitter Salt of VictoryThe smoke of the alchemical fire did not clear with the dawn; it settled into the marrow of the valley, thick and heavy, smelling of scorched copper, dead moss, and the sweet, rotten aroma of corrupted stone.Natalia stood at the lip of the inner ditch, her breath a jagged, shallow rasp that rattled in her chest. The battle-frenzy had completely receded, leaving her body cold, hollow, and vulnerable to the freezing mountain wind that swept down from the high peaks. Her human form had returned by inches during the final hour of the slaughter, a painful, agonizing decompression that left her skin bruised, her limbs trembling, and her shoulders raw where her clothes had been shredded away by the transformation. She had wrapped herself in a stiff, blood-hardened cloak taken from a dead imperial lieutenant, the silver crescent embroidery along the hem trailing in the black, mud-slicked slush."The count is finished," Dmitry said, stepping out of the
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