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... s eyes, a reflection of her drawn sword illuminating the failed rune dust on the floor of the Grand Library. Before her, Lord Elarion stood rigid, his mask of arrogance cracked, revealing a flicker of near-panic as he grasped the gravity of his actions. The two Archmages who aided him looked pale, the energy from the failed ritual still crackling in the air like static.
"Treachery!" Lyraelle’s voice rang like clashing steel. "You dare enact a forbidden containment ritual in the heart of ...
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