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... at which the spire allowed, and even that came in slow, pulsing waves.
The light was dim, then bright, then dim again like a heartbeat. In fact, it seemed a little too much like a heartbeat.
The air was heavy, thick with the metallic tang of magi, and every sound, even the smallest shift of a cloak, seemed swallowed by the black stone walls.
The space itself felt alive. Not alive in a warm, welcoming way, but alive like a predator waiting, coiled and patient.
An a ...
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