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... was approaching. My nose itched, and the wind carried the scent of wet earth mixed with the fragrance of trees. Whenever that smell came, it meant the storm was near. It was familiar, but today, it felt different—heavier, almost suffocating.
While practicing fire magic, a flame dancing in my hand, I glanced at Rygar. He was sitting near the edge of the clearing, as sharp as ever, carefully adjusting his sword. I'd seen him do this before, but today, it felt like he was elsewhere. His eye ...
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