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She swept her palm downward, and the space beneath the gray-robed man thickened, then erupted into a spiraling lattice of roots that grew from empty air.
They wrapped toward him in silent coils.
The gray-robed man’s eyes narrowed.
"Die," he whispered.
Withering flowed.
The roots turned brittle before they could close. Their green sheen dulled into gray, then into powder. The air filled with dead dust again, falling in slow spirals.
But the ...
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