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The wind carried no sound here.

The trees were tall and ancient—gnarled bark like twisted faces frozen in agony, leaves blackened not by rot, but by something stranger. Magic here was... sluggish, like it passed through honey instead of air. It clung to skin and skinwalked in shadows.

Yui Nocthollow, the shadow-draped Dark Elf, crouched beneath a knotted tree. Beside her, the air shimmered briefly as Nyssa Thorne, the aerial recon beastkin, ...

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