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... seam in the world, pulled sideways through space and stitched open by something that should not have had fingers.

The name Zeyrthmal hovered midair, slowly twisting in on itself like a spiral devouring its own letters.

Alaric stood in front of it, alone.

Marcus was gone.

Not dead. Not retreated. Just... no longer present in a way that mattered. His last words still echoed in the room like a joke no one understood yet.

> "When you do, the Crown remember ...

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