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- A ceramite fist clutched a handful of my father's thinning hair and pulled him away from me. He screamed in pain, but there was no mercy in that grip. He tried to turn, scrabbling at Amadeus' armour with weak fingers, a sick man pleading not to be hurt.
- Amadeus smashed him, headfirst, into the corridor wall. The first time silenced his cries, breaking the bones of his face. The second time, his skull crumbled in my master's grip, leaving a red smear against the metal.
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