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... ffs loomed overhead, and the air was thick with mist—not natural, but tainted. Every breath tasted of metal and dust, every shadow stretched too long.

Zephyr rode ahead of his party, accompanied by Elara—his seer and mistress of ancient paths—and three elite scouts. The main army waited two days behind. He needed answers, not another battle. Not yet.

"This region wasn’t like this before," Elara murmured. Her eyes, always attuned to magic, glowed faintly. "The land is... weeping." ...

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