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... tudy at Whitehill: she at her old desk, with a slate in front of her, and Grenfell at the front of the room. The walls were still lined with bookshelves and cabinets, which led Liv to the strangest observation.

Each one of the titles on the spines were familiar, like old friends - but only when she looked at them directly, and focused her attention. The rest of the time, the lettering swam indistinctly. Even the massive hunk of mana stone - though Master Grenfell would insist on the form ...

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