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... there is an island. Atop that island is a ruined dome. Within that ruin is a basin lined with the runes of a dead culture. Before it was the sight of a great vengeance fulfilled. Filled with the last essence of a betrayer. Now it is dry. The little white flower had slipped its pot and strangled the garden, supping on their life to bloom anew.
Thunder brewed overhead as dark clouds glowed with hidden lightning that chased away the darkness of the endless caverns. Rain fell in heavy sheets ...
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