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PREVIEW
... sing like a gallery gone feral, casting flickering light on the cluttered, dusty floor. The air reeked of ancient vellum, cracked stone, and the faint stench of a bad life choice, making every step feel like a gamble against a seer’s curse. I gripped the Heart of Glimmerfen, its loaf-shaped orb throbbing like it was yelling, You’re doomed, Cecil! The Wyrm’s Quill buzzed, flickering like a tavern torch on its last ember. In my pocket, the Scone of Secrets pulsed, its warmth humming like it was wh ...
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