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... out a rhythm that echoed off the rocks like Morse code for "don’t fall." His robes caught the wind, billowing around him like he was auditioning for a wizard fashion spread, but that scar on his face kept him grounded—jagged proof he’d paid dues long before we stumbled into the picture. "The third shard’s perched high, in the Crag of Cindered Dreams," he called back, voice cutting through the gusts. "Guarded by the Ember Warden—a forge-spirit born from Valthorne’s first failures. It’ll test you ...
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