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Chapter 260: North, Always North
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Chapter 262: Crown of Fear
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... had never existed. The air, already heavy, thickened into something almost solid, saturated with contradictory scents: the sweetish rot of decaying vegetation, the musk of animals, and always, lingering in the background, that metallic sting that burned the nostrils. The trail they followed—branches snapped at shoulder height, deep hoofprints pressed into the mud—was too neat, too obvious.
Zirel felt a new tension coursing through his veins, replacing anticipation with vigilance at ever ...
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