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... hat I expected.
For one thing, it was built inside a retired windmill, the kind with creaky blades that groaned like they regretted ever being invented. For another, the front door was shaped like a loaf of bread — actual wood carving, complete with fake sesame seeds.
A sign hung crookedly above the entrance:
"We’ll Arm You With Anything But Common Sense."
Lilith crossed her arms. "This is a cult."
"It’s a guild," I corrected. "Cults don’t have membership ...
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