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... d.

Alaric didn’t answer.

He stepped down into the fog, boots touching cracked stone that used to be a paved road. The air was thick, but not wet. It pressed against skin like memory—not heavy, but personal.

Seraphine followed just behind him, hand on the hilt of her blade. "Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like magic."

"That’s because it isn’t," Alaric said. "This is pure mental bleed."

Kaelion muttered behind them, "We’re walking inside someone’s memory, ...

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