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I could tell from the hushed silence that nearly twenty students were seated quietly at their desks inside the modest-sized classroom. Pressing my ear gently against the wooden door, I listened intently, my breath shallow and measured. From within came the authoritative voice of the teacher, ringing clearly from the front of the room: "Jayson Stand up" My heart quickened inexplicably, and a ridiculous, involuntary smile tugged at my cheeks. The boy rising from his seat was my younger brother, Jayson. He'd endured the Forsaken horrors at such a tender age-those vile creatures had slaughtered our family before his very eyes. For a long time, Jayson had been trapped in the grip of that trauma, unable to escape the shadow of those nightmarish memories. But now, he stood proudly as a senior student, a young man worthy of the Masters who sheltered and guided us.
