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... earing around the broken obelisks now seemed to buzz faintly with new energy, the ancient wards no longer strong enough to mask the temple's presence. The land was shifting, waking in ways it hadn't for countless years.

Argolaith stood at the edge of the clearing, the small root fragment in his hand glowing steadily. It pulsed with a rhythm that thrummed up his arm and into his chest—a living guide, a heartbeat pointing toward something distant.

Toward Yuneith.

The true Y ...

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