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... e to the alcove, sputtering and spreading in turn. It seemed as if every time a tendril of flame died out as it turned gossamer wings into ash, another tendril reached out and set a new bad-thing alight. Lines of blue traced paths across the gray of the stone, forming ephemeral patterns that shifted from one moment to the next. Every so often, a stray spark began the blaze anew, finding its way to another clump of flammable-winged bad-things.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.co ...

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