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... ickering behind him. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and death. The villagers—people who had once sneered at him, whispered behind his back, called him the son of a heretic—stood frozen, their faces pale, their eyes filled with terror.

No one spoke at first. They just stared at him.

Then the murmurs began.

"Did you see what he did?"

"That wasn't normal... That was magic."

"He's dangerous." ...

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