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Chapter Book 6 22: Sinker
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... he sensation it brought in the slightest: like sandpaper against his insides, his very soul rubbed raw and bloody by sore Use.
The Rogue Sorcerer pointed the dragon oak wand at the latest fae to land on the railing, the artefact grown sluggish from being fired repeatedly, and swallowed a curse. Another piece of his collection, going up in smoke. The red-veined wand trembled, the last of the dragon blood the tree’s roots had once drunk unleashing its nature in the form of ...
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