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... d a little inside—rotting leaves, brittle branches, and a humid air that clung to your skin like overdue debt. Not that I was complaining.
After nearly getting crushed by a living temple, swallowed by monsters, and manipulated by a goblin who thought he was a king, walking between trees almost felt noble. Peaceful. Almost therapeutic.
Ashveil wasn't far now, and I knew the path by heart.
That was the problem—I knew exactly what was waiting for me there.
And honest ...
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