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... ed and shifted like a living thing, each tendril curling against the wind as if obeying some unseen will. Under the fading light of evening, the valley’s mouth was nothing but a pale shroud—an endless curtain of silver that swallowed the world beyond. I could barely see the jagged silhouettes of rocks jutting from the ground, their edges slick with dew. Somewhere inside that haze, the dungeon pulsed. Waiting.
They called it the Silver Mist Valley, but that was a name for those who didn’t ...
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