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... ia, where the earth cracked like a starving man’s lips and the sky offered no mercy, the Kingdom of Arkham had festered for generations. It watched. It waited. Its hatred for Belmore simmered beneath the surface like molten rock trapped beneath barren stone.
While Belmore flourished with emerald meadows, ancient forests that whispered secrets, and lakes so clear they mirrored the heavens, Arkham knew only dust, grit, and the relentless fury of a land denied. Its people were not soft like ...
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