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Frost Wraith

Annabelle sat at the family piano in the great hall. The candles lit; the chandelier, glistening, spreading the light, revealing the room to any onlooker. There were none, however, though even if there were, their presence would be lost in the music. Annabelle’s nimble fingers gently rapt the keys melodiously, her prodigious skill echoing in

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’m sure that when you landed on my page, you were astonished to see the heading there: Howlietzer Publishing.
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