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The illusion came. The room shifted. The ruined facility faded, replaced by its former self—untouched, gleaming, its cold sterility an insult to the horrors it concealed. The scent of sanitized metal and acrid chemicals filled the air, mingling with the faint traces of burnt magic.
And at the center— A woman sat bound to the chair.
Her black hair fell in disheveled strands over her shoulders, sweat dampening the locks against her pale skin. Arcane chains wrapped around her ...
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