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... hat scraped at the edges of his mind like nails on brittle stone. The psychic assault was relentless, each pulse from Elyra driving deeper into his consciousness, warping his sense of reality. Fractured images—visions of flame, ruin, and shadows—flickered behind his eyes, distorting his perception of the battlefield. The jagged spires around him shifted and writhed, as though they too were alive, closing in to suffocate him.

His Aura of Dread flared instinctively, a pulse of primal terro ...

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