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... quare
Night fourteen after the Anathema
The sky was gray, the atmosphere tense like before a storm.
Fitran stood in the deserted square, abandoned by the people; the security candles had been extinguished, and the torches were now merely charred remnants of light. The air was thick with an unnatural magical pressure, as a foreboding dark aura gathered around him, as if the fate of the entire world hinged on this moment. Each heartbeat felt like a ...
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