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... arched towards the forest, a chaotic procession of black robes and flickering torches. From a distance, they looked like a swarm of angry fireflies, their lights bobbing and weaving erratically across the darkened landscape. There was no discipline, no order, to their march. Some sang obscene songs, their voices raucous and off-key. Others hopped and skipped, their laughter echoing through the night. Agra himself, still clutching one of the wooden boxes containing a severed head, was bouncing up ...

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