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... rm beneath the Archivist’s spell, concentric rings of glyph-marked stone rising from the floor like the slow surfacing of a memory long buried.
Blue flames lined the edges, flickering against the dusty air. Magic pulsed through the ground with each heartbeat, setting the stage for something ancient and sacred.
Miles stepped into the circle, and Sarissa mirrored him, her boots barely making a sound as she moved. Her eyes, however, were anything but quiet.
They burned like ...
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