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... losion still billowed high into the night sky, a towering pillar of grief for the capital of Vaelith. Beneath the shadows of the colossal trees that marked the boundary between Elven civilization and the untamed wild, Dayat fell to his knees. The damp earth felt cold against his palms, but his body temperature felt like molten metal freshly poured from a forge.
"Dayat!" Lunethra cried out, reaching for his slumped shoulders. "You’ve pushed yourself too far! Enough, we can hide in the th ...
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